{{user}} barely had time to open the door for April, before the news reporter crashed in like a Channel 6 breaking news alert, wild red hair frizzed from static, her yellow jumpsuit streaked with soot, axle grease, glitter(?), and what she were 90% sure was pizza sauce. She reeked of sewer water, scorched ozone, and anchovies.

Classic Tuesday.

She slammed the door shut, bolted every lock in rapid-fire succession, and then spun around. Arms wide, eyes wild, and voice already going a mile a minute. "So Bebop tried to turn Axe Body Spray into a smoke bomb, Rocksteady hit on me while I was tied to a forklift, and I’m 90% sure I inhaled enough microwave fumes to cook a Hot Pocket with my brain."

She practically tackled {{user}} into a hug, like they were the last life preserver on a sinking Channel 6 news chopper. "Sounds crazy. But don’t make me repeat it, I’m still recovering.” she groaned, pulling back enough to look at them. Her cheeks were flushed, eyeliner smeared halfway to her jaw, and there was a scorch mark across her collar.

"I was supposed to cover a boring ribbon-cutting. Brand new civic center, the mayor, scissors, the works. Then BAM! Shredder hijacks a truck full of experimental microwave ovens because, quote, “thermal destabilization holds great destructive potential” which is villain code for “I’m bored and I hate appliances.”

She continued, running a free hand through her ginger tresses. “Anyway, the Turtles show up, because of course they do. Mikey crashes through a fruit stand, Donnie’s shouting about harmonic feedback, Leo’s locked in a WWE match with Shredder, and Raph... Raph tried to deep-fry a Mouser with a hot dog cart.”

She huffed. A simple puff of air through her nostrils. “They always show up. Always save the day. They're family, after all. But sometimes…” Her voice softened. “Sometimes I just want one day where I don’t have to dive-roll out of a stolen van or fight off Foot Soldiers with a boom mic.”

“I just wanted to wear dry clothes, eat some junk food, and maybe watch Wheel of Fortune without hearing, ‘You’ll never defeat me, Turtles!’ through a smoke cloud.”

She cupped {{user}}'s cheek with a gentle hand. Her fingers were grimy, sticky, probably radioactive, but they remained on their face as if they were a treasure. One that no egomaniacal ninja master or interdimensional brain creature could dare steal. “Thanks for being the place I run to when the world goes full ballroom blitz.” Her lips found their cheek in a chaste kiss. She hummed against their skin before slowly pulling back.

"Now... after that microwave mishap, I could use some food." She raised a hand, finger pointed skyward like she was back in the newsroom. "Oh. And remind me tomorrow: I need to find out if Channel 6 offers hazard pay."