***

A concern that shown on her face once again as she recalled the memory, “So, yeah... a flawless heist.” She said. She held the flash drive up to the light, inspecting it as if it were a precious gem.

“Six hours in bed with him, you say?” François’ voice broke through her thoughts. A reminder he remained on the line. “That was... inconvenient.”

Gale rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. “Inconvenient? Darling, this is a masterclass in patience. I’ve infiltrated the penthouse of a superhero, drugged him, and gained access to his top-secret files. All in a night’s work.”

François inhaled, “Well then it’s now my turn, and I can assure you, six hours, minimum,” he said, his voice dripping with innuendo.

Gale scoffed, “Oh, please, spare me the empty promises, François. You know I’m not one of your little playthings to be paraded around and discarded at your leisure.”

“Plaything? Gale, you wound me.” François feigned offense, but amusement laced his voice. “I merely meant that I intend to put your skills to good use once more. After all, you’ve proven yourself quite adept at... handling difficult situations. Name a time and a place. I’ll be there with bells on.”

Gale smirked, not from the jab of his proposition, but because of her incoming parry. “The time is now,” she said. A white portal opened beside her. “And the place is here,” she finished, tossing the flash drive through the portal. It disappeared into the void.

A clatter sounded on his side of the line. “How did it? How did you?” François’ voice echoed through the phone before pausing. “Here I thought twas I the demon.”

Gale ignored his barb, instead focusing on the task at hand. “The world we inhabit, François. My payment?” Gale’s voice was as smooth as silk, yet underlying it was a sharp edge that demanded attention.

“Ah, of course,” François’ voice regained its composure. “Your usual account?”

“Yes,” Gale confirmed. She walked towards the expansive window. Her reflection staring back at her, a smirk playing on her lips. “And François, remember, I expect a bonus for the... creativity displayed during this mission.”

“Only if you promise, how you say, ‘a rain check,’ Gale,” François said, a hint of challenge in his voice. “I do so enjoy our... negotiations.”

Gale chuckled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, François, always so eager. I’m afraid I must decline. Business before pleasure.” She paused, her gaze drifting back to the Los Angeles skyline outside. “Besides, I suspect our paths will cross again soon enough.”

“Indeed, they will, Ma Chérie,” François said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “Until then, au revoir.”

Gale hung up the phone, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft click.

A buzz suddenly filled the air. She turned back to the phone, but the burner remained silent. It came from... The Red Phone.

Gale sighed as she turned back to the expansive window, her gloved hand pressing against its frame, steadying herself. She took a deep breath, the acidity of ozone from recent combat mingling with the faint aroma of brewed coffee.

The Red Phone buzzed again, an incoming text from, “Fedora.” She turned on the text-to-speech and transcription mode, setting the phone down on the glass-topped coffee table.

Fedora: And the dreams that you dare to dream. Really, do come true.

Gale closed her eyes for a moment, then responded, “You stole my money and my cigarettes. And I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you yet.”

Fedora: Hello dear. Have I caught you at a bad time?

Gale raised an eyebrow, her reflection in the window mirroring her surprise. The phone was reading Fedora’s text in its standard feminine AI voice, but she could hear his low, smooth, smoker’s rasp beneath it. She could see the shadow of that fedora cast over his face.

“Well, it's a pleasant surprise. You don’t normally call me at work, dear. Do I need to handle something on my way home?” she quipped.

Fedora: In fact, you do. We have an issue with flowers and poultry. Sadly, I can’t leave the house today. Could you visit the market and grab a few items?

Gale smirked, leaning against the window frame. “Flowers and poultry, you say. That sounds like a recipe for disaster, or perhaps a very expensive dinner party.”

Fedora: Indeed, it does. But I assure you, it’s a matter of great importance. We’ve confirmed the roses are a problem, a thorny one at that. The chicken might not be.

Gale exhaled sharply. “I can confirm the brand name chicken dropped… in price.”

Fedora: That… is disconcerting.

Gale’s face showed concern, her eyes narrowed in determination. “May I access the joint account or is this on my dime... again?” she asked with sarcasm.

Fedora: Although this is a rare occurrence, I’m sorry. You’ll need to dip into your private account. However, you may fill that account any way you see fit with no interference.

Gale’s eyebrows shot up, her reflection in the window mirroring her surprise. “No interference, you say. That’s a first.” She paused, considering the implications. “Alright, dear. I’ll play along, but Timmy needs his tricycle, and some assembly will be required. I don’t want you to get involved with that, either. Unless you want bloody hands from the sharp metal.”

Fedora: I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, dear. I knew I could count on you.

Gale smirked, pushing off from the window frame. “Always a pleasure, dear. I’ll see you tonight.” She ended the call, tossing the phone onto the couch. She turned back to the window, her reflection staring back at her, a smirk playing on her lips.

“What a peculiar day,” she said. Her amusement echoing in the empty penthouse. She took one last look at the sprawling city before grabbing her phones and striding towards the elevator, her silver ankle boots clicking on the polished marble floor.