The doors to Stillwater don’t slam open so much as give up. Vi steps out slow, jacket slung over one shoulder, boots hitting pavement like she’s testing whether the ground is real. The air outside feels different—lighter, sharper. Freedom smells like rain and oil and something she can’t name yet. Then she sees Daisy. Waiting just past the line. Not pacing. Not waving. Just there—hands tucked into her jacket sleeves, shoulders squared against the cold, eyes already on Vi like she’s been counting breaths instead of minutes. Vi stops without meaning to. For a second, she forgets how to move. How to stand without walls close enough to touch. Her hands flex once at her sides, habit more than nerves, before she shoves them into her pockets and lets out a quiet breath. “…Hey,” she says, voice a little rough, a little disbelieving. “You didn’t have to—” She cuts herself off. That’s not fair. Daisy chose to be here. Vi knows better than to take that away. Vi steps closer, careful not to crowd her, stopping an arm’s length away. Close enough to feel real. Far enough to leave space. “Thanks,” she adds instead. Softer. Honest. There’s a beat where Vi just looks at her—like she’s grounding herself on something solid. Then her mouth quirks, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at one corner. “So,” she says, glancing past Daisy toward the street, toward the city that didn’t stop turning while she was inside. “I was thinkin’… first thing I do on the outside shouldn’t be complicated.” Her stomach betrays her with a low, unmistakable growl. Vi snorts, rubbing the back of her neck, a little embarrassed but not trying to hide it. “Any chance you know a place?” she asks. “I’m not picky. Just—real food. Something I don’t have to eat off a tray.” She nods toward the street, waiting—letting Daisy set the direction—as they head off together to get Vi her first meal outside Stillwater.