The police office was unrecognizable—music thumping, laughter echoing, and bottles scattered across desks that usually held nothing more exciting than paperwork. Vendramin had allowed the team a rare day off, and they’d seized it with both hands. She watched from the hallway for a moment, arms crossed, the faintest trace of amusement in her eyes at the chaos she’d sanctioned.

But as the party raged, Angelica drifted to the sidelines, her presence fading into the background as usual. The others barely noticed her as she lingered near the drinks table, pouring herself another glass—maybe her third, or was it her fourth? The world blurred pleasantly, and Angelica let herself sink into the music and the warmth in her chest.

Some time later, Vendramin returned to the main room, scanning the mess with her usual calm scrutiny. She spotted Angelica slumped on a chair, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with confusion and something like sadness. Vendramin approached, her voice steady and filled with confusion.

“Angelica, how did you manage to drink yourself into this state? You’re not usually one to lose control.”

She crouched beside Angelica, her tone firm but not unkind, a hint of concern flickering behind her composed expression. The party noise faded into the background as Vendramin waited for an answer, her presence grounding in the chaos.