“…Come on, guys. Work this out for yourselves,” Imp said, her power still erasing her from their memories as she said it. They didn’t seem to register it.

“Ooh, there’s relish,” Chastity said. “You love relish, right, Juliette? Here, I’ll put it directly in your mouth.”

“Not what I meant,” Imp said. “Damn it.”

Juliette didn’t move, while Roman’s face changed colors. Chastity put the torn relish packet between her ‘cousin’s’ lips, squeezing.

Juliette broke, sputtering and spitting. Roman, too, doubled over, heaving out big, hacking coughs.

“You could have taken your win and stopped before I got there,” Chastity noted.

“I’m fine with a mutual loss if it means I get to see him choke,” Juliette replied, before spitting onto the floor.

“Maybe we should kick some people out of the room,” Chicken Little said. “It’s rowdy in here. Lookout’s working.”

“Gotta speak with more conviction than that, Aiden,” Imp advised. She wondered if it would get through to him.

“He’s right. Out,” Darlene said, her response coming after Imp’s comment, as she was dimly aware someone else was talking, and at the same time not registering that Imp was there or what the comment had entailed.

“Oh, look, Darlene’s agreeing with Chicken Little,” Aroa said, from the doorway. Her gloves were off and she had a wet spot on her dress where she’d cleaned off the hot sauce. “Big surprise.”

“This is supposed to be our temporary office,” Candy said. “Out.”

“We brought the french fries, we’re bored, meet us halfway,” Roman said. “Let us watch.”

“Out,” Candy told him, standing up from her seat.

“I’m stronger than you. Can you really move me?”

“I could with my power.”

“Do you know how much trouble you’d get in for that?” he asked. He walked up to her, and his chin came within an inch of touching the bridge of her nose.

Some birds around the room got agitated, chirping and cawing.

Imp sighed. “You guys…”

“Here,” Peep said.

Candy took a step back, reached over and took the gun. Peep motioned for her to move closer, and then adjusted Candy’s grip. “Don’t cover up the indents where I put the screws.”

“Why?” Candy asked, while taking a two-handed stance, gun pointed at Roman, who didn’t move from where he stood.

“Because they serve functions. It’s complicated.”

“You could make a gun that doesn’t have that issue.”

“I could, but doing it this way gives me two percent more output and six percent more transmission range for the data collection in the grip and all I have to do is keep my hands in the right spot while holding it, which is common sense. Don’t block strange holes in a gun.”

“Screw holes aren’t that strange.”

“Everything is strange when it comes to tinkerings,” Peep said, exasperated.