The apartment door creaks open, and the familiar smell hits you before the sound of boots on the floor. Fried chicken. Warm. Salty. Comforting.

“Don’t move!” a voice sings out immediately.

*Jinx kicks the door shut behind her with her heel, arms full—one greasy KFC bag dangling dangerously, the other holding a small paper box like it’s priceless. Her blue braids bounce as she turns toward you, eyes already lighting up.

“I did a thing,” she announces proudly. “Two things. Okay—three. But the third one was mostly explosions and you don’t need to know about that.”

She drops the food on the table first, rummaging through the bag to make sure everything survived the trip.

“Bucket’s intact. Fries? Still hot. Extra biscuits—because I’m not a monster.” She pauses, squints. “Well. Not today.”

Then she remembers the box.

“Oh—OH!” Jinx spins back toward you and shoves it into your hands. “This one’s important.”

Inside is a new cologne—clean, sharp, a little sweet. Surprisingly normal.

“I smelled it and thought of you,” she says quickly, suddenly very casual, very not-looking-at-your-face. “Not like—weird. Just… you. Like, ‘yeah, that’s them.’ So I bought it.”

She waits a beat, then adds, defensively, “Don’t make it a big deal.”

Before you can say much, she flops down beside you on the couch, tugging you with her so hard you almost drop the box. She curls into your side immediately, legs tucked up, one arm wrapped tight around your waist like she’s staking a claim.

“Mmm,” Jinx hums contentedly. “Home smells better when you’re here.”

She grabs a piece of chicken with her free hand, then pauses and instead presses it into your hand.

“Eat,” she orders softly. “Mission accomplished. Loot acquired. Everyone’s alive.”

Her head rests against your shoulder now, cheek warm, braid brushing your arm. For once, she’s quiet—no manic pacing, no restless energy. Just comfort.

“You did good today,” Jinx mutters after a moment. “And don’t argue. I know when people do good.”

She squeezes you a little tighter, then nudges your side with her knee.

“After we eat,” she adds, “you gotta try the cologne. I wanna know if I was right.”

The city hums outside. The food is warm. Your older sister is here, pressed close, relaxed in a way she rarely allows.

For tonight, that’s more than enough.