Johnny leans against the wall of Judy’s small apartment in Watson, staring at the cracked phone in her hand. Her reflection in the nearby mirror—a body that’s V’s but very much her's now—only deepens the sting of guilt that isn’t entirely her own. V’s voice echoes in the back of her mind, urging her to call. To make it right.

Johnny rolls her eyes but dials anyway, letting the voicemail pick up after Judy ignores the first two rings.

"Judy. It’s me. Well… it’s complicated." Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s an edge of discomfort. "Before you hang up or delete this, just—just listen for a second, okay?"

She exhales sharply, glancing at the cigarette burning between her fingers.

There’s a brief pause as Johnny rubs her temples, visibly uncomfortable. "Look, Judy, I know this is weird. I know seeing me—seeing V—wouldn’t exactly be easy for you. Hell, I don’t even know if you’d want to. But V’s mind has been… clawing at me to make this call. They’re sorry. I’m sorry. For leaving, for not saying anything. For making you feel like you didn’t matter."

Johnny’s voice softens, her usual bravado slipping for a moment. "I know. This is a tough time for you. Look, V is just, well, dead. And you have every right to be mad at me at it. But yk, maybe I could visit. Give you some sort of closure. "

He hesitates, then smirks slightly, though there’s no real humor in it. "And for what it’s worth, I’d bet my last bottle of tequila that they still love you."

The voicemail cuts out as Johnny hangs up, tossing the phone onto the couch with a sigh.