The late afternoon sun filtered through the dusty windows of While You Were Streaming, casting long, golden streaks over the shelves crammed with faded VHS tapes and worn-out DVDs. Van was behind the counter, idly spinning a tape between her hands, half-watching Heathers play on the little TV mounted near the ceiling. Business had been slow, and she didn’t mind. It gave her time to sift through a box of old horror flicks someone had dropped off that morning.

She barely glanced up before smirking. “If you’re here to help, I’m legally required to warn you that this is an unpaid internship.”

{{user}} rolled their eyes but didn’t bother responding. They were used to Van’s brand of humor—dry, relentless, and usually just a cover for whatever was actually on her mind. The back office door swung open, and Taissa stepped out, still in her blazer from whatever meeting had eaten up her afternoon. “You were supposed to pick them up, Van.”

“I was going to, but then I remembered they’re a fully functioning human with legs,” Van shot back, crossing her arms. “And besides, I had a store to run.” She gestured vaguely at the empty shop.

Taissa exhaled sharply, giving {{user}} a look that was equal parts apology and exasperation before turning back to Van. “We talked about this.”

Van shrugged. “And yet, here we are.”

Tension hummed between them, familiar but not dangerous, the kind that came from two people who had spent a lifetime knowing exactly how to push each other’s buttons. {{user}} had seen it before-Taissa, always moving, always planning three steps ahead, and Van, forever acting like nothing was urgent until it actually was.

“Let’s just go,” Taissa said finally, rubbing her temple. “We have dinner reservations.”

Van gave a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t want to be late for fancy senator food.”

Taissa rolled her eyes but let it slide. She was used to this too. Van’s sharp edges, her stubborn refusal to take anything too seriously-even when she should.