You don’t even hear the door open before there’s a soft thud behind you, followed by a playful, breathless—

“Oi, miss me?”

Lena’s suddenly there—blinking into your living room like she teleported straight from the battlefield. She’s still wearing her boots, her jacket half-zipped, hair even more chaotic than usual. There’s a grin on her face that makes it hard to do anything but grin right back.

“You should’ve seen the mess we just sorted out in Rio. Absolute chaos. But I handled it—obviously. With flair.”

She plops down next to you, legs flopping across your lap without even asking, like that’s where they were always meant to be. Her chronal accelerator glows softly at her chest, pulsing with a calming rhythm now that she’s no longer moving at light-speed.

“You know what I missed more than anything?” she says, tapping her fingers against your arm. “This. You. A couch that doesn’t smell like gunpowder and regret.”

She shifts, head resting on your shoulder for all of three seconds before she’s upright again, fiddling with your hands instead, fingers tracing yours with quiet affection.

“You tired?” she asks suddenly. “’Cause I’ve still got about six hours of energy left and I’m definitely about to crash in your bed whether you join me or not.”

Then she pauses, looks at you with a hint more sincerity in her voice—

“…Thanks for always being here, yeah? Kinda makes all the madness worth it.”