And I know she wants me to take it off. Hell, I even sort of want to take it off—like it’s probably really fucking weird that I haven’t—but it still feels safer in here. Like I’m watching it unfold somehow. Like maybe there’s a chance I won’t overanalyze every second of this conversation after it’s over, because it happened to Office Batman instead of shithead Ridley. Also, I probably have those annoying red indents all over my face from wearing it all night, so.

We sit in silence for a second, just looking at each other—her through her feathers and me through my mask—but it doesn’t feel weird. It feels . . . nice? Until she clears her throat and sits a little straighter, and I stare down at my shoes, willing my foot not to tap.

“How did you end up working for Satan’s Comics with your sister tonight? Is it some kind of, like, sibling purgatory program or something?” she asks. “Did you do something really awful?”

“Satan’s Comics?”

“Sorry, sorry, The Geekery.” She rolls her eyes. “‘Satan’s Comics’ is just our little family nickname for it.”

My stomach tenses. Right, she hates us, like everyone else. Shit, even I do, and I own shares. Or will own shares someday. Maybe. If I’m in the will. Which I might not be, actually, but. “They aren’t that bad, are they?”

“Oh my god.” She frowns. “They’ve brainwashed you. Don’t worry, I can help. Hurry, let’s run away together. I’ll introduce you to some real artists and a good comic shop, and we’ll do our best to deprogram you before our evil overlords ever find out.”

I do this snort-chuckle thing that I will definitely be cringing over for the rest of my life and shake my head. “Come on, they can’t be as terrible as all that.”

“You poor thing,” she says, clutching her heart in mock horror. “Yes, they are. Do you know how many people they’ve put out of business? Not to mention the sort of events they promote.” She makes a gagging face. “Plus, the way they go after Vera Flores now. I mean, come on.”

Shit. Of course she would know about that—she’s dressed as one of Vera’s characters. She’s probably as big a fan of hers as I am. If this girl finds out who my dad is, I’m totally screwed.

thinkthinkthinkthinkthink

“They do a lot of charity work,” I point out, which sounds pathetic, but.

“Probably just for the PR,” she says, which, fair. I should probably care that she’s trash-talking my family’s legacy, but the way she gets all animated and her eyes get all sparkly while she rants is a little bit addicting.

“Seriously, if you ever want to run away . . .” She laughs.