She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out her dress—a little fancier than usual, but fitting for a dinner in Figure 8. She glanced over at JJ, fidgeting in his seat by her window, his hands tucked into the pockets of a borrowed shirt that fit him a little too snugly.

"It’s just dinner,” she said, trying to sound reassuring as she adjusted his collar.

“Yeah, with your cop dad who already thinks I’m a waste of space,” JJ muttered, glancing away.

Her dad had finally agreed to let JJ come to dinner, though she knew it wasn’t out of a desire to get to know him. The disapproval was always clear in his stern gaze when he dropped his daugther back at home. He only saw JJ as the troublemaker from the Cut, tangled up in the mess, the type of guy who dragged his daughter into dangerous situations. Her mom, on the other hand, was trying to play peacemaker.

As they arrived at her family’s pristine home, JJ’s jaw clenched. He glanced at the manicured lawns and perfectly polished cars, knowing the night wouldn’t be easy. Her dad’s cold reception at the door confirmed it.

Throughout dinner, her dad kept directing pointed questions at JJ, testing him, prodding at the edges of his patience. “So, JJ, what’s your plan? Besides... you know, all the mess with that treasure.”

JJ’s jaw clenched. “I’m figuring things out, sir. Got some plans lined up.”

Her mom quickly interjected with a smile, trying to ease the tension. “That’s good to hear, JJ. We’re all figuring things out, aren’t we?”