“It’s not for me to grant you pardon,” Misery says. “But in speaking your sins, alone, the Larex Forge has already exculpated your mistakes. You are forgiven, Diamond.”

Her captain exhales, and the shudder that runs through her is part relief, part epiphany. Misery feels it in her own chest. She touches Diamond’s hand again, the lightest contact, and her captain nods.

“You know,” she says, “one of the greatest lies of that story, and the one I hate the most? We didn’t defeat the Heretics. After destroying my ship, Esse Temple fled. She jumped away. So she’s still out there, biding her time. Roaming the void between the stars. That thought has haunted me every night since.” Under Misery’s fingers, Diamond’s hand clenches into a fist. “But her time will come. I am sure of it. One day we will destroy her. I shall see to it myself.”

Sometime in the hazy length of the party, Lightning has convinced Spider to stay the night. They meet in the bare sanctuary that is Lightning’s room, him leaning against the wardrobe, arms barred across his chest, hips canted at a perfect angle and held still. Lightning, parked next to the bed, carefully scans Misery’s face for hints of approval.

“Why do you want to do this?” Misery asks of Spider.

He prickles defensively. “We beat the bad guys, I’m horny, do I need more reasons?”

Lightning frowns in her direction. “Just say no if you’re not into it.”

“I am. I just wanted to make sure we’re clear about what’s happening here. That we’re all on the same wavelength.”

“Well. I’ve put my frequency out there. We gonna fuck, or what?”

Then they’re getting undressed, exposing skin for exploration, navigating the angles and interactions between their bodies. The air grows heated, thickens with breath. Misery splits her attention between Lightning and Spider, but it’s the latter who draws the most of it. The long confessional from Diamond has opened a thick seam of questions about Spider that she wants answered. Misery tucks Spider’s hips between the points of her knees and studies the spill of his tattoos across his arms and chest.

He says, “It’s rude to stare,” but there’s laughter in it.

“Rudeness,” Misery says, “is a function of distance. You can only be rude to ones you’re not close to. Isn’t that true?”

“Speak for yourself,” he grunts, but he’s shed his carapace of humor and underneath it is something tender, something curious. Misery leans forward and kisses him, catching that expression and locking it in place. Lightning watches closely as Misery eases herself over and onto him and settles her weight right. Rocks back and forth as Spider puts her hands on her hips.

“You’re looking at me,” he says.

“I could shut my eyes if you want.”