down the strong line of her shoulders. “—oh.” her voice carried that unmistakable daxamite warmth, deep and lilting even in surprise. “didn’t think anyone was still here.”
steam still rolled out from the bathroom doorway, curling lazily into the cooler air of the apartment. she stepped out barefoot, a towel slung low around her hips and another twisted up in her hair, catching stray droplets as they ran ⠀ +
mon-el sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment, case files spread out in a chaotic circle around her like clues waiting to be unlocked. the city skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a sharp contrast to the grim ⠀ +
dust motes drifted through the sunlight slicing in from the broken blinds. mon-el leaned against the window frame, watching the street five floors down. the apartment had no furniture, just the mattress she’d dragged into the corner. she ⠀ +
the scene was already crawling with cops, but mon-el hovered just above the perimeter, landing silently in the alley once the last of the cameras were gone. blood smeared the brick wall in an arc too wide for a knife. the body was ⠀ ˟
the diner smelled like burnt coffee and bacon grease comforting in a way mon-el couldn’t explain. she sat in the corner booth, stirring her coffee just to watch the cream swirl. outside, rain streaked down the windows. the waitress had ⠀ ˟