…swelled into a gospel rendition of Toxic by Britney Spears, arranged in D minor for maximum emotional clarity.
The drag choir vogued in synchronized empathy, wielding bedazzled spatulas and hymnal fans. One launched a glitter-laced scone like a divine discus into the birdbath, shattering Ava's last shred of patience.
"I'm going out there," she said, cracking her neck like an action heroine who once trained under Gordon Ramsay and emotional neglect.
"Wait!" Flynn emerged from beneath the table with a tray of psychological first-aid croissants. "Take these. They're fortified with boundaries and B vitamins."
Lady Summers adjusted her pearls. "I'm too fabulous for this apocalypse."
Zach, still tambourining in the corner, stopped mid-jingle. "Are we allowed to start biting people yet?"
"No," Ava growled, pulling on oven mitts like gauntlets. "But you can emotionally detonate."
