Yaya bristled at first, but then she gave in. It was just a movie, and it wouldn’t run forever. She’d stood through longer shifts at Jumpies for less money than this pizza cost. She could sit through this in one of Bryant’s cushiony chairs.

He nodded to her and turned again to the TV. “Find Fight Club. Play movie.”

Bryant seemed tolerable through the first half. He was too caught up in it himself to notice that Yaya wasn’t paying much attention. Magenta wriggled inside, the parasite acting as a giant tongue and lapping up protein. Yaya would only get the cheese and crust, maybe the tomato sauce if Magenta was generous.

Once she settled, Yaya could eat in peace. She’d have a short window between Magenta’s cravings.

The peace made Bryant’s glances obvious. He was looking at her between bites of pizza and sips of wine, waiting for reactions she didn’t know when to give. Had she cared, she would still find investment in the movie impossible between his sideways glances and knowing smirks, a blot of sauce painting his mouth red where his lips met his beard.

An electric guitar slashed across the end credits. “Stop movie,” Bryant said, and the sound in the TV’s black speakers cut out. “You are stone cold.”

“Hm?” Yaya muttered.

“Nothing from you that whole time. No reaction. Like ice for blood.” He didn’t sound annoyed, more amused. He turned to her. “You’re not a vampire,

are you?”

She side-eyed him and didn’t turn from the screen.

He held up his hands in that familiar surrender pose and gave an awkward smile. “Just playing.”

“I watched it.” Yaya shrugged. “He hated the way things were and got revenge. The end.”

“There’s a little more going on than that. Society recognizes a difference in principle between revenge and retribution. Revenge is a personal vendetta.

Retribution can be personal too, but it demands justice. A fine line between both sides.”

“What if you’re just a sadist?”

Bryant wiped a napkin across his mouth, and his smile with it. “I don’t think you understood the movie. That’s okay. TV off.” He leaned into his seat, miffed now. “A sadist wouldn’t care. He’d have no conviction.”

Yaya sat for a long quiet, broken only when she couldn’t stifle a high-pitched yawn.

Bryant’s smile returned to life. “That was adorable.”

Yaya stood. “I should go.” Not that she knew where. Back to Doc’s place?

Bryant nodded. “Or you could stay.”

“We had this talk.”

“Take the couch. Hell, take the bed.” Bryant hurriedly cleaned up the dishes and glasses. “My treat. The hall bathroom’s more for guests anyway. I stick to mine in the bedroom.”

Yaya opened her mouth to protest again, but another yawn tore loose. She was ready to blame Magenta again. A stone mounted in her gut, dragging her consciousness deep into a dark sea, and she guessed that magenta-colored tentacles hid in the abyss.

“Couch, then,” Yaya said.

~

For all her drowsiness, she couldn’t sleep.