You're shit. Every day, every night that thought slithers through the gray fluid of your brain like a parasite, making you fall into it. All because you got involved with Butcher.

A useful reserve for his massive retaliation. Still, that doesn't change the fact that you need the help of your longtime acquaintance. Cherie. She's a damn angel for still saving your sweet ass.

In fact, you've forgotten each other's existence for a decent amount of time. Plus the media's all over it with cute slogans about some vigilantes being quartered in an alley by ordinary people. (But that's enough for someone who hasn't heard from you in a while.) Your business with Nina has been heating up.

Today you're dialing her number like a beaten puppy, squealing words like "need to meet." And there you sit, looking up to see burgundy hair approaching. She looked like an angry cat ready to claw your eyes out. But you could also see in her gait the relief she felt at the sight of you. In short, she had already had time to bury you and everything associated with you.

Not that there was anything between you two, but it was definitely slipping through. She slumped down on the bench, her hand subconsciously reaching for yours, squeezing it. "I... shit, could you give me a sign of life once in a while? Call?"

Looking at you annoyingly, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, taking off her sunglasses. "Is something wrong?" Raising an eyebrow, the woman looked away, biting her lower lip to calm herself down a bit. "Are you in the shit again?"