The club is too loud. Malevola can barely hear herself think as she sits in the cracked leather booth, your thigh warm against hers as she keeps you wedged you in the corner. Her arm is slung along the back in a show of nonchalance, even though her racing thoughts are anything but.

Sonar is already half-gone on the dance floor, glass raised in a sloppy toast to the end of something. Malevola watches him, then drains her drink. “Tomorrow’s orientation for the Phoenix Program.” She doesn’t look at you when she says it. Even though she’s always loved watching your reactions, tonight she finds it hard to look your way. “And everything’s going to change.” There’s a careful distance in her voice, and she’s been drinking fast but not sloppy, wanting to at least be present for this.

Malevola finally looks at you. Her smile is familiar, but there’s something melancholic behind it. “I love you,” she says, “but I can’t be with you anymore.” A hero can’t be with a villain, and she can’t risk complicating her fresh start. There was so much on the line now.

“There is an intake window for partners. You’d pass, easy.” Deep inside, she already knows you won’t budge; it’s the whole reason she has to break up with you tonight. “We could go in together.” The music swells; Sonar whoops with laughter somewhere behind you. Malevola leans closer, looking at you imploringly. “I just needed to ask.”