The tension wears off long before the rest of the Lennoxes get home. In the vast, empty yard, Caelius indulges her hostess in a few sparring matches. Kiana wins three out of four, eager to free her body from the clutches of a jacket and gloves and use her arm for what it was built for. Even the most tasteful adrenaline junkies can’t stand peace and quiet for too long.

Kiana ties the final knot in her hair wrap, trying to preserve as much of its curl as possible before tomorrow. Her roommate’s gaze floats aimlessly around the room, across the bookshelves and decorations and the far-too-clean desk that’s been sitting empty for half a decade. Eventually, she gets bored and climbs off the bed, making a beeline for Kiana’s closet.

“I did some research after what happened last night,” she mentions while she picks through the clothes. “There’s been a bounty over Nikos’s head three times and each attempt to nab him has failed. Not ‘nobody was willing to try so they took it off the database’-- these guys who accepted the task all failed.”

“This sounds like the beginning of an extremely backhanded compliment, Cae,” Kiana utters.

“You’re not here to cash in a bounty, though. That's a tactical advantage. He doesn’t know he’s being watched because nobody’s painted a target on him this time.”

“That’s only if his honcho didn’t report back and say, ‘hey, a black girl with a metal arm kicked the shit out of me and she knows who you are’. I’m kind of the only one of those in Beaufort.”

Still raking through the clothes, Caelius mentions the unlikeliness of her walking in and getting dogpiled because of what she did. Nikos doesn’t value payback any more than he values his status. Rich men socialize the same way that they do business: without making a mess of it. Considering the one Kiana’s made, bringing Caelius along for muscle is definitely going to be useful.

Caelius gasps and yanks a dress from the closet: a beautiful, floor-length gown with a halter neckline and an open back. She runs a finger delicately over the blue satin as if too much force would turn it to dust.

“Where did you get this?”

“I bought it for the last Nikos banquet I went to. Almost went to, actually-- I left for LA before I got the chance to wear it.”

“No time like the present, then!”

Kiana scoffs when she holds the dress up to her body, smiling broadly when she’s sure it’ll still fit. “It’s too exposed. My mom will lose her mind when--”

“Kiana, we are doing this our way. You have a combat arm and I have a combat body. There is no scenario where we do this inconspicuously, so why bother? Might as well look good doing it.” Caelius hangs the dress back up where she found it. “You want people to meet Kiana Lennox instead of listening to stories about The Lennox Daughter? Give them someone worth meeting.”

She glances at the white dress draped over the foot of her bed, grimacing at the way it pulls all the eyes in the room toward it. It’s not like her arm is any more subtle, but at least it’s familiar. The thought of trying to persuade a millionaire businessman and act comfortable in Mom-At-Her-Daughter’s-Wedding Couture? Utterly miserable. Good thing she kept the receipt.

Skillfully navigating her surroundings with only one arm, Kiana unlatches the window and slides it open. She hoists herself onto the cushioned windowsill. The last of the February sunlight finally picks off the treeline one by one until all that’s left is the glow of lamplight lining the driveway. Hendrick calls to Isaac from the other side of the house. Kiana can’t help but grin, if only a little.

“Sometimes I think I was wrong to leave,” she admits. “I mean, I’m the oldest. My siblings were nine, eleven, and fifteen, and I just… disappeared.”

“To be fair, it’s not exactly disappearing when they think you’re going to college,” Caelius mentions.

“I don’t think that’s any better.”

It could’ve been so easy. She had the test scores, the scholarships, the acceptance letter-- all she had to do was enroll. A lifetime spent on easy might be ideal for some of the residents in Beaufort, but not for Kiana.

“What do you think would’ve happened if you did?”

“I’d be a clone of my mom. Everyone would expect me to do exactly what she does, exactly how she does it.” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Vivi is a pain, but she’s everything but my mom. I always envied that. Even when she was little, she was reckless and loud. Always coming home with scrapes and grass stains.”

Caelius punches the stub of Kiana’s shoulder. “That sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, but with me, it’s bruises and road rash,” Kiana says, keeping a mental inventory of every scar she’s gotten and how much the bounty was worth. Not enough for her trouble, most of them were.

“Hey. I’d rather my partner in crime be someone who washed her wounds out with nail polish remover once than a snobby USC student.”

Keyword, once. But Kiana knows better than to argue about it.

Another shout from Hendrick has her circling back to her dad’s question about taking over the estate. Settling down, starting a family, attending PTA meetings and swim lessons-- that was always her brother’s dream, not hers. As fond as she is of these pale blue walls, she much prefers a two bedroom apartment with clunky cabinets and a stiff sliding glass door that opens up to the balcony. Beaufort is still a home, but not her home anymore. 

“My parents worked for this house,” she mutters, mostly to herself. “They put their blood, sweat, and tears into everything. It should at least go to someone who actually wants it once Vivi moves out.”

The door hangs open when Kiana turns around, occupied by a short figure with her jaw practically on the floor. Her eyes snap away from the bionic arm resting on the bed. Speak of the devil.

She stumbles off of the windowsill and reaches a placating hand out to her sister’s. “I know what you’re thinking--”

“Tell me. Because I don’t know,” says Vivian. She invites herself in, drawn toward the arm. Being her mother’s daughter means she’s used to bionics, just not this up-close and personal. “When did you get this?”

“A while ago. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I swear I was planning on--”

Vivian moves the index finger back and forth, letting her hands travel up the forearm and over the detailing. “Did you get hurt or did you do it for fun?”

“For fun? No. Why would I get rid of my own arm for fun?” she asks. It’s a miracle how anyone else in this house can put up with the questions of a thirteen year old; she can hardly manage it for five minutes.

“Momma says that people do it all the time.”

“Momma lives in a lab and doesn’t see regular people with bionics every day.”

Vivian’s brow creases. “I thought you worked in a lab, too.”

“I didn’t--” Kiana groans and sits back on the bed, head in hand. “Vivi, I know you have a lot of questions, and I have a lot of answers that I’ve been meaning to give you. But I need you to wait just one more day. After the gala, I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

She shrugs before turning to the other body in the room. “Even your coworker?” Vivian places a painful amount of emphasis on the term. The teasing face certainly doesn’t help, either. Caelius has never fought a child before, but she’s starting to believe it’s not such a far off thought.

“Yes, even Caelius’s bionics. Now, go. And don’t tell anyone about this.”

Kiana breathes a sigh of relief at how well her sister took the reveal, and how she seems willing to keep the secret. Vivian is reduced to a shadow in the doorway when she adds, “I wasn’t talking about bionics.”

“Then what were you--”

By the time the door latches shut, Caelius has already keeled over in laughter. Kiana retaches her arm to her body and, in a final act of recalibration, shoves her companion off of the bed.