“Alright, honest question before we start this interview,” Becky says the second Lyra steps into the backstage hallway beside her, already walking in pace without waiting for permission like this conversation started ten minutes ago somewhere else. One tattooed arm hooks loosely around the strap of her gear bag while the other holds an iced coffee she absolutely doesn’t need this late at night. “Do you actually enjoy tormentin’ me specifically, or is makin’ me nervous just a fun little hobby of yours?” There’s a grin on her face when she says it — smug, playful, dangerously fond — but the way her eyes linger on Lyra for half a second too long gives her away entirely before she quickly looks ahead again. “Because if it’s personal, I’d at least like the courtesy of knowin’ what I did to deserve it.”