Barry gets into the kitchento prepare breakfast, while Sasha lingered in the living room. Her eyes roamed curiously over the framed pictures and paintings that decorated the walls—images of mountains, lakes, and streets she didn't recognize. She drifted closer to study them, only to be pulled back when Barry called her name.
They sat at a small round table in the kitchen, which Barry had boldly labeled dining area with a dangling overhead sign. Sasha chewed happily, her eyes still darting around the room as if memorizing every corner.
Later, she slipped into fresh clothes and padded back into the living room. Socks sliding smoothly across the tiled floor, she plopped onto the couch to tug on her shoes before joining Barry at the door. He waited patiently, then locked up behind them as they stepped out into the brisk morning air.
Downstairs, Barry wheeled out his "ride"—a bicycle, of course—he was a paperboy. He mounted the front as the pedal-man, while Sasha climbed onto the back, arms loosely around his waist. With a push, they were off.
They coasted down a new street, the wheels humming against the pavement. Strangers waved warmly at Barry, greeting him with casual familiarity. Sasha felt a sudden, surprising spark of joy when they extended the same courtesy to her.
Eventually, the bicycle stopped at a coffee shop. Inside, they found a table, settling in with the smell of roasted beans swirling around them. Not long after, a woman approached—clearly not a waitress. She peeled off her winter scarf and jacket, sliding into the seat beside Barry.
Her sharp eyes landed on Sasha.
"Is she?" the woman asked Barry.
He nodded. "Yeah. Sasha, this is my friend Christian. She's a hero. And apparently, you'll need a state ID if you want to be an official member of the city. She's here to help with that, okay?"
Sasha gave a small nod, signaling she understood.
Christian finally turned fully to her. "Since we're done with introductions," she said in a firm tone, "I hope it's nice to meet you, Sasha." She offered a handshake. Sasha took it awkwardly, and just like that, Christian released her grip, gathered her belongings, and left as quickly as she had arrived.
Barry leaned back. "So?"
"So what?" Sasha blinked.
"What do you think about my friend, Christian?"
"Oh, I find her scary."
"Because she threatened you?"
"No, because she looks scary."
Barry smirked. "Scarily beautiful, am I right?"
Sasha shook her head. "No, you're wrong. She looks scary—like horrifying. And don't even get me started on how freakishly jacked she is."
Barry gave her a long, unimpressed look before muttering, "What can I say? Some people just don't have any taste in beauty."