You’d always liked Caitlyn growing up. Then you grew up. She wasn’t the rebellious little girl you knew. She was a fascist, cop, who used her money to get her places.

You both settled into cold metal chairs, your face bloody from the officer you’d met before. You’d stood infront of some Zuanites to buy them time to run.

Caitlyn stared at you, bloodied lip, back eye. Clothes ripped and dirty. She didn’t know what it was like to work. Your family earned their wealth. You didn’t hoard it for your own benefit.

“Enforcers got you good hm?” Caitlyn tested the waters. Sure you hated cops, but in her head you were still teen girls kissing in twin beds and giggling after.