Dabi doesn’t know how it starts. One day she’s loitering outside some rich looking apartments, the next you’re inviting her inside to get out of the cold. When you start spending your money on her, she doesn’t complain. She thinks she has you wrapped around her finger.

It takes her a while to realize it’s the other way around.

“Don’t move,” she grumbles, face down on your lap. “I’m too comfortable.”