Fedora paused in his tracks, his gaze snapping back toward his friend. His eyes were a wildfire of interrogation, the flames plastered solely on his face as he searched for some flicker of betrayal or jest.
Tyra didn't respond; he didn't offer a single syllable of defense. Instead, he gave Fedora a slow, consenting nod, a silent seal of the deal, before stealing a sharp glance at Miguel.
Across them, inside his car Miguel looked utterly satisfied, lounging in the stillness of his triumph as he waited with a calm, maddening certainty.
Fedora made to speak, but the sheer shock and hilarity of the situation left his mouth ajar and dry. A brittle scoff escaped his throat, sounding more like a crack of breaking glass than a laugh.
"Are you insane?" he hissed, his voice a frantic, hushed whisper that echoed only in the narrow space between them.
