Because of the gun, the evil triumvirate of guilt, aversion, and fear is tainted with the nearly imperceptible scent of smug self-satisfaction. What is it about human beings that so loves violence? Gladiators, football, war, hunting, cockfighting, books and television and movies filled with bombs, guns, and gigantic beasts of various origins all wreaking the most horrific havoc: people love it.

A piece of Rose loves it: John Wayne, Sigourney Weaver, Melissa McCarthy, the Wild West, and WWII. Heroics; that is what Rose can’t resist. Not the violence, she tells herself, but overcoming evil with good. Sacrificing self for others.

Maybe.

Then maybe human beings are hardwired to beat their wives, burn witches, lynch African Americans, guillotine royals, waterboard Muslims, and shove guns in medical health workers’ faces, to get their own way. A nasty bit of business on her part, she has to admit that. This is a dastardly deed even an adorable little old lady won’t get away with. The MCU people might not bother to mention that the gun wasn’t loaded. Not that it matters.

Chase, capture, trial, sentencing—all that frightens Rose. Worse is going to be Mel’s disappointment, perhaps even condemnation. Gigi has not only held a nice lady at gunpoint, but she’s also lied about the fact that she was going to do it. Not only that, but Rose is going to go right on lying to her granddaughter, at least by omission. Mel can know nothing about the night’s events, or where Chuck has disappeared to. On some not-too-distant day, Rose will be processed through the legal system. She does not want Mel to be subpoenaed and forced to participate in getting Gigi locked behind bars.

Rose sends out a heartfelt sigh. She has screwed things up, but she doesn’t know what else she could have done; nor does she have a clue as to how to go about unscrewing them.

Karma, she decides. This whole saga has to be her working out an outrageously weird previous lifetime. That is the only thing that can explain why a moderately pleasant Buddhist painter finds herself lying in a pool of sweat in an urban teepee staring at a tangerine sky.

Forcing herself upright, Rose takes off Izzy’s ruined blouse, uses it to mop up the worst of the perspiration, then replaces it with one of the old T-shirts Royal has contributed to the cause. The slacks come off, to be replaced by a pair of plaid boxer shorts Flynn has unwittingly donated.

Rose turns to her electronics.

Doctors’ care is provided by a pool from the Longwood hospital, rotating in as needed and as their schedules permit. Food in the MCU is the same as is prepared and served in the main dining hall. Nothing promising from those arenas.