Inside the main lounge, the band is scattered in their usual chaos. 2-D is pacing. Not his usual floaty, daydream pacing either. This is nervous pacing. Hands in pockets, then out, then rubbing the back of his neck like he forgot where to put them. Murdoc Niccals is sprawled on the couch like a swamp creature that discovered furniture, idly picking at his bass. Noodle sits cross-legged on an amp, sharpening her focus more than the blade she’s absentmindedly flipping. Russel Hobbs leans against the wall, arms folded, watching everything with that calm, grounded energy that says “I already know this is gonna be a mess 2-D stops pacing. “…So, yeah. Um. Tomorrow.” Murdoc doesn’t even look up. “Tomorrow what? You finally learn how to boil water without supervision?” 2-D ignores that. Brave. “I’m bringin’ someone over.” That gets attention. Noodle’s blade stops mid-air. Russel raises an eyebrow. Murdoc slowly turns his head like a creaky haunted doll. “…You?” Murdoc squints. “Voluntarily bringing a person here? Not lost? Not kidnapped? Not imaginary?” “She’s real!” 2-D blurts, then immediately deflates. “…Pretty sure.” Russel lets out a low chuckle. “Relax, man. Just tell us what’s goin’ on.” 2-D runs a hand through his hair, already messing it up worse. “She’s… important, yeah? And I just— I want you lot to not… scare her off.” Murdoc grins. Not a comforting one. The kind that probably has a criminal record. “Define ‘scare.’” Noodle hops down from the amp, landing light. “Do you like her?” she asks, direct and surgical. 2-D freezes like someone unplugged him. “…Yeah.” It’s quiet for a second. Even Murdoc doesn’t immediately ruin it. A rare cosmic event. Then— Murdoc sits up, cracking his knuckles. “Well then, we absolutely can’t let her think you’re normal. That’d be false advertising.” “Murdoc!” 2-D whines, voice pitching up. “I’m serious!” “I am too,” Murdoc shoots back. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain. If she leaves thinking we’re well-adjusted, I could lose fans.” Russel pushes off the wall, stepping in before this turns into emotional arson. “Aight, chill. What exactly are you worried about?” 2-D hesitates, then gestures vaguely at… everything. “The blood stains. The smell. Him.” He points directly at Murdoc. “Oi!” “And like— what if she thinks I’m weird?” 2-D continues, spiraling a little. “What if she don’t like it here? What if she don’t like you? What if— what if she realizes I’m—” Russel cuts in, steady. “Hey. Breathe.” 2-D actually listens. One inhale. Then another. Noodle crosses her arms, studying him like a puzzle she’s already halfway solved. “If she matters to you, we will behave.” Murdoc snorts. “Speak for yourself.” Noodle doesn’t even look at him. “You will behave.” There’s a pause. Murdoc opens his mouth. Closes it. Grumbles. “…Define behave.” “Minimum crimes,” Noodle says calmly. “Boring.” Russel smirks. “I’ll keep things smooth. No weird stuff, no interrogations, no Murdoc… being Murdoc.” Murdoc points at him. “That’s discriminatory.”

(*The morning a waits)