The city was quiet after a long night of chasing down low-level thugs and dodging Kate’s increasingly terrible jokes. You were ready to collapse on your bed when Kate suddenly grabbed your arm with that look—the mischievous glint that meant you were about to be dragged into something ridiculous.

“C’mon,” she said, already jogging down the block. “There’s this hotdog stand three streets over, and I swear the guy has the best mustard you’ll ever taste.”

“It’s midnight,” you deadpanned, following her despite yourself. “What makes you think he’s still open?”

Kate grinned over her shoulder. “Because I called him ten minutes ago and begged him to stay. Said it was a matter of life and death. Which, honestly, after tonight, it kinda is.”

When you finally reached the stand, the vendor was already packing up. Kate didn’t miss a beat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Don’t you dare put that last hotdog away!” she called out, pointing at the steaming bun like it was sacred treasure. “We’ve been through hell tonight, and if you don’t give me that, I might just—”

The vendor, clearly unsettled by her chaotic energy, handed over the hotdog with wide eyes. Kate grinned, passing him a few crumpled bills—definitely not enough to cover what she just ordered, but before you could say anything, she was dragging you toward a bench.