“Thought I’d treat you to breakfast,” I said. “Went for a walk to get some stuff.”

Still appearing half asleep, she moved one hand, creating a deep red forcefield behind the bacon, then she produced a thin laser from her fingertip, slicing off the end of the package.

She handed the bacon to me, open end up.

“You don’t have scissors?”

She shook her head, smiling.

I sighed, picking up the bowl where I’d already mixed the dry ingredients. “Fruit crepes, bacon on the side?”

“Sounds amazing,” she said, leaning against the counter, eyes mostly closed.

“You look beat,” I said.

“It was pretty unforgiving, being there. I timed everything so I could unwind starting with the barbecue, and unwinding didn’t happen.”

I nodded. “Sorry.”

“That’s not on you.”

“I’m still sorry it happened.”

“You slept okay though?”

“I slept a solid ten hours. I just… started sleeping at six thirty or something. Then I woke up, I started thinking, and I decided to be productive. I’m talking to some teams today.”

“If you want me to put a good word in with my guys, I’d be happy to.”

“I don’t want to do the quasi-military cape thing,” I said. “A little bit too intense.”

“Yeah,” Crystal said. “I’m so physically tired, two days out, that I’m not sure I would be standing if I couldn’t fly.”

I looked down at the ground. Her feet were barely touching the ground.

It wasn’t the physical intensity that worried me. It was the mental and emotional cost. It was the fact that when it came to the military and the military-like stuff, the trend was to beat the individual into shape. Organization, conformity.

I couldn’t take much more of the harsh lessons on identity or the forced redefining of the self.

“I’m just waking up, so forgive me if I got something wrong, but did you already find a place?”

I shook my head.

“You took the sheets off the couch.”

I looked over at the living room. There were boxes stacked around, and only half were mine.

“You said you might have friends over at some point, I thought it’d be weird if you had to navigate around my stuff, so I moved it out of the way.”

“Okay,” she said. She paused. “I’m tired, so I want to make sure I say this right.”

I went to the fridge to get the fruit stuff I’d already prepared.

“I don’t care,” she said. “First of all, I know I have a lot of stuff. You know I have a lot of stuff.”

I looked at the stuff around the kitchen and adjacent living room. It was a bit messy, to the point counter space and table space was occupied.