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chapter six
NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE
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THE NEXT MORNING, THE students are preparing to board the bus that will take them to their next destination on their European vacation and also the one Lena is most excited for— Paris. Betty frets tirelessly over Ned as if they aren't going to the exact same place. Her concerned questions if he had taken his medicine are mere background noise to Lena's ears, mostly because she can't stop grinning like an idiot at Peter.

As soon as they'd clambered into the gondola that took them away from their hotel, he'd reached over and clasped her hand for support like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nobody had thought anything of it. Hand-holding isn't a new concept for them, but this time, it feels different. Mostly because he hadn't let go the entire time they've been walking down the bustling streets of Venice toward the location that the bus is supposed to pick them up. Every one of Lena's nerves is attuned to the touch that sends butterflies swarming in her stomach. He appears to be feeling the same way; a boyish smile lights up his entire face as if some light source is illuminating him from the inside.

"Who's pumped for Paris?" Graham questions, sprinting in a short burst and then springing into the air, landing directly in front of them. "I'm so excited to drink some French cof– wait." He cuts himself off, facing Lena and Peter with eyes squinted in suspicion. His gaze scrutinizes them from head to toe in a thorough examination of their entwined hands – not just clasped, this time – and glowing faces. Realization dawns on his features and makes them go slack with shock. He begins to bounce slightly, the movement turning into him jumping up and down as he furiously jabs his finger at them and repeats like a broken record, "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God oh my God oh my God OH MY GOD OH MY GOD–"

"What?" Cindy questions. Her attention had been seized by Graham's screaming, and she tucks her glossy hair behind her ear as she approaches them with a slightly bewildered expression. Graham merely points at them more firmly because it seems words have failed him. It takes Cindy a moment to realize what he's so excited about, but then her eyes widen and she all but shrieks, "Well, it's about time!"

"Ned, you owe me five dollars!" Graham hollers to the boy who's still getting a wellness check from Betty. Ned groans and digs in the pocket of his cargo shorts, producing a crumpled-up five-dollar bill and handing it over. The taller boy stuffs it into his bag with a victorious grin pulling up his lips.

"So that's what Ned was asking about yesterday," Peter muses quietly. When Lena gives him a questioning quirk of his brow, he continues, "He wanted to know when I would make a move because he had some sort of bet."

"NED," Graham shouts, effectively startling him enough to make him whirl around at the sound of his name. "THE WHOLE POINT OF HAVING A BET IS TO NOT TELL THE PERSON YOU'RE HAVING A BET ABOUT THAT THERE'S A BET."

With a resigned sigh, Cindy passes over a five-dollar bill to Graham as well. When she notices their confused glances, she explains, "Graham and I had a bet that Ned would tell one of you about the bet." She turns to Ned and gives him a disappointed shake of her head. "I really believed in you."

Graham regards his newly-earned ten dollars with a very smug expression on his face. "I'm not even mad that you didn't tell me right away— I'm richer because of it."

Truth be told, Lena wanted to tell Graham as soon as she'd returned to the hotel, but he'd been passed out in his shared room with Abe, so she hadn't wanted to disturb such a rare moment of slumber. Cindy had also been asleep. The jet lag had truly done a number on them, so Lena had changed into pajamas and stared at her ceiling for two hours. The giddiness spreading undiluted joy throughout her entire body had kept slumber far from her mind.

Lena feels the jet lag, too. The fatigue makes her eyelids feel like they've been filled with sand and her limbs are heavy. The giddy feeling from last night has yet to fade, though, so she chooses to focus on that instead of how miserable her body actually is.

Once Betty finally releases Ned out into the world, Peter momentarily releases his grip on Lena's hand to place a comforting one on his best friend's shoulder. "Hey, man, you sure you're good?"

"Oh, dude, I'm fine!" Ned insists, adjusting his loudly-printed baseball cap that harshly clashes with his Hawaiian-printed button-up shirt, which is open and displays his grey graphic t-shirt. That and his floral-printed backpack make him a sight that hurts her eyes. "Don't worry. Seriously, getting tranqued in the neck by Nick Fury? Probably the coolest thing to ever happen to me, anyway."

"It is pretty cool," Peter agrees with a small grin. They start doing their signature handshake, a series of motions that they've done so many times by now that it's practically muscle memory. "I'm just happy we don't have to go to Prague."

"Seriously."

"Good news!" Mr. Harrington exclaims as he appears from the alleyway they'd had to walk through, waving a brochure with a manic amount of energy. "We're going to Prague."

Lena's mouth drops open as their moderator pushes his way through Peter and Ned's half-finished handshake. He's completely oblivious to the utter disdain on their faces. Graham looks like he'd just announced that they'll be spending the rest of their vacation at a graveyard. His eyebrows are pinched, mouth pulled into a frown in an expression that's eerily similar to one that Max and Owen used to make when they weren't getting their way.

"What?" Peter demands a bit too harshly.

Mr. Harrington doesn't notice his tone and merely turns back toward him with a grin. "Yeah, the tour company called. They upgraded us! You should've heard me on the phone with them– I really gave 'em hell."

"All I heard was crying," Mr. Dell retorts.

"So we're not going to Paris?" Lena questions, stomach turning sour and spirits deflating.

"No," Mr. Harrington replies. Upon seeing the extreme disappointment on her face, he quickly backtracks. "But think of all the fun things we'll get to do in Prague!"

All Lena can think about is how badly she'd wanted to go to Le Procope– how she'd been so excited to visit the City of Lights that she'd dreamed about it once or twice. She'd had the trip extensively planned out. Somewhere along the line, between the activities the group already had planned, she and Graham would visit that café and consume caffeine until they dropped. Plus, her parents had already converted some of their cash into euros. Sure, she has an international credit card, but she was supposed to use the euros as her primary source of payment. Now she has to call them and explain the situation.

And then, that sadness converts into anger. Lena's frown tightens from the slight pull of disappointment to harsh lines of rage that makes her lips tint white, hands clenching more tightly than necessary onto the straps of her red backpack until her skin stretches over her knuckles and makes them prominent.

Nick Fury just couldn't take no for an answer, could he? He'd acted so respectfully the night before, seemingly accepting their wishes to be left alone and allowing them to leave, when in reality, he'd had no such intention.

Lena knows she'd signed up for this hero stuff at the age of fourteen. But that had been local hero stuff. And just because she'd gotten herself roped into something bigger than she could have ever imagined with Thanos, she's just expected to save the entire world now? She, Graham, and Peter are just supposed to blindly follow orders from people they don't even work for?

She's pretty sure she's an Avenger. Once, at three in the morning because she couldn't sleep a few weeks after the funeral, she'd frantically texted Bruce, am i an avenger??? He'd replied, Of coirss. O f cou rse. Of course. Sorry, these giant thumbs make it hard to type. Peter had told her about being formally "knighted". She isn't positive what Graham's status is, but either way, Nick Fury stopped being the Avengers' director a long time ago. They shouldn't have to answer to his every beck and call.

"C'mon, Lee," Peter says, putting a hand on Lena's shoulder to gently prod her forward. Most of their group has already begun walking through the narrow passageway that leads to the bus. She'd been so trapped in her bubble of wrath that she hadn't noticed, but she forces a deep breath through her mouth and douses some of the flames in her eyes. Peter turns toward their tallest friend with a wince. "Graham, don't destroy any of the architecture."

Graham really does look like he could punch something and make it shatter with a single blow. His shoulders are tense and hunched, lips pressed so firmly together it must hurt. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his red t-shirt. Then she notices that the shadows around him are lengthening. The lines of where he ends and where the shade begins blur, making him look less human and more like his superhero alias as he glares invisible lasers into the cobblestone pathway.

Things like this only happen in times of distress or rage. He loses his grip on his powers, exuding darkness to the point where his surroundings lose their light and he blends into the shadows. If he isn't careful, he could slip into the dimension between worlds. There's a possibility he could be trapped there if he doesn't have a set destination in mind.

Ned claps him on the back, effectively jolting him out of his stupor in a nonchalant way. "Travel agencies, am I right?"

"I told him I have two infants to watch," Graham grumbles with his eyes narrowed into slits. The shadows around him dissolve as he storms onward, an irked expression still twisting his face.

Ned shrugs in an I tried manner.

"Look at our upgraded ride!" Mr. Harrington's voice echoes back to them from the front of the group, followed by several gasps of astonishment from the students behind him.

When the narrow passageway opens up to reveal a fairly empty street that's occupied by a single bus, she can't help but raise her eyebrows. It's certainly better than anything they were originally going to ride. The bus parked on the pavement is completely black with large tinted windows and a compartment beneath for them to store their luggage. The entire vehicle screams Nick Fury. That, and the fact that the stern-looking man with a low ponytail from last night – Dmitri – stands outside it with a plain sign saying Midtown High, makes it abundantly clear that the former director has everything to do with this.

"Come on," Peter groans in annoyance, coming to a stop while he's still on the stone pathway. His face is pinched in irritation and his shoulders have slumped. It's a sharp contrast to Cindy's excited grin that nearly splits her face in half, her finger jabbing eagerly at the sleek bus while she locks eyes with Lena. The taller girl barely manages a slight lifting of her lips in response. Hopefully her anger will be mistaken for a loss of words.

"Wha... What's going on?" Ned questions breathlessly, switching his gaze from their bothered expressions to the bus and the man standing outside of it. Mr. Harrington holds his hand out for Dmitri to shake, but the leather jacket-clad man dressed entirely in black merely stares at him, unimpressed. Their teacher awkwardly scratches the back of his head and boards the bus instead.

Peter heaves a long-suffering sigh. "I think Nick Fury just hijacked our summer vacation."

Ned obviously doesn't share the same feelings toward the situation as the three superheroes nearby. He breaks into a smile, surging forward to join the rest of their group, cheering, "Awesome!"

"Not really," Lena grumbles as she follows after him.

Ned climbs on board first. He sits down beside Betty, while Graham unceremoniously plops onto an empty row and sprawls his long legs out. He pulls a sleep mask from his backpack and pulls it down over his eyes as a signal he doesn't want to be bothered. Cindy is sitting beside Abe, MJ is next to Brad, and the twins are eagerly playing some game on Owen's phone, so the only open spots are the back row or the spot beside Flash. Lena hurries past that one and moves straight to the opposite end of the bus. She dumps her backpack on the floor and all but throws herself onto the bench. Peter perches next to her much more cautiously.

Lena leans her elbow on the seat's armrest and places her chin in her hand. The sky is cloudy in Venice, but still has that searing brightness from the sun glaring through the crowds. It's so bright it almost hurts to look out the window, but Lena welcomes the pain. It's a worthwhile distraction from the grumpy mood she's been thrust in.

The bus begins moving once Dmitri boards and slides behind the wheel, causing the buildings to blend together in a stream of beige interrupted occasionally by colorful street signs. She hears the low hum of the engine but scarcely anything else. Everyone seems to be left to their own devices. The intermittent snicker from Max or Owen sometimes jars the quiet, but other than that, it's already painfully boring.

A tap on her shoulder has her tearing her attention from the window and glancing to her left. Peter has an earbud in his right ear and is offering the other one to her, a look on his face that says something like, I know this sucks, but we're kinda stuck on this bus, so we may as well deal with it.

She's gotten pretty good at reading his facial expressions.

Lena accepts the earbud and welcomes the sound of Elton John that greets her eardrum. Unbeknownst to her, a small smile plays on her lips as she listens to one of her favorite songs, Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting). It seems that Peter truly has been paying attention to her– he knows how to cheer her up even from her lowest moods.

She leans her head back on the headrest and closes her eyes, content to drown out the world with music until they stop for a break. The few moments of peace are rudely interrupted by her phone vibrating in the pocket of her capris. She jumps a bit, causing Peter to also flinch as she digs the device out. It feels like a sucker punch to her gut when she reads the text on the screen.

TONY STARK wants FaceTime.

Both teenagers stare blankly at her phone for a moment. Lena's heart hammers in her chest, growing into a thunderous roar the longer that the contact photo she'd chosen for Tony is in front of her face. It's a picture of him from one of the times they were in the lab together. He'd dozed off for a few moments, slumped low in an office chair and head lolled to one side so that his chin blends in with his neck. The sight used to make her laugh. Now it just causes a cavernous ache.

Peter pauses the music and plugs his earbuds into her phone. Fingers shaking, Lena accepts the call.

It buffers for a moment before connecting, the picture extremely pixelated due to the fact she's in another continent. Her parents had gotten her an international plan for the length of her trip. However, the lack of cell reception in the bus makes it difficult for her to make out what she's looking at. It looks like a ceiling. She can't hear anything except a muffled voice in the background, too low to make out the owner.

It feels like her mouth has been stuffed with cotton, but Lena manages to squeak out a, "Hello?"

The faint voice cuts off abruptly. There's the distinct sound of footsteps pattering on the floor – probably hardwood, judging by the dull thudding noises – and then the camera moves as the person picks the phone up.

Lena and Peter are greeted by a familiar, tiny face with wide, brown eyes and adorably chubby cheeks still puffed out with baby fat. "Oops!" Morgan Stark says in her high-pitched voice as she holds the camera way too close to her forehead. "Didn't mean to call."

All of Lena's adrenaline begins to drain away, leaving her hands trembling and cold. Her breath comes out in a fond sigh. "Hi, Morgan."

"Hi, Lena!" Her name comes out a bit jumbled, sounding a bit more like Le-luh. She tilts her phone screen so Peter comes into the frame. Morgan's face brightens even more. "Peter!"

"Hey," he greets with a small wave. "It's good to see you, Morg, but we should probably hang up before your mom catches you on your dad's phone."

The picture lags for a moment, and Lena worries that his sentence had been cut off. Then it starts up again and Morgan appears horrified. They barely hear the voice of an off-screen Pepper Potts asking, "Morgan, what are you doing?" before the young girl hastily ends the call.

Lena chuckles, unplugging Peter's headphones from her device and handing the cord back to him. She and Peter had been over the Stark residence a few times on weekends to watch Morgan for Pepper. The first time had been an interesting encounter. Before they could even introduce themselves, Morgan had exclaimed, "I know who you are! You're on our shelf!" and grabbed both of their hands, dragging them to the kitchen. There, on a shelf beside the sink, had been a photo of them with Tony after Peter had received a certificate for the Stark Internship.

A few moments later, she gets an incoming text from Pepper.

PEPPER POTTS: Sorry about Morgan. Sometimes she likes to press buttons on his phone without knowing what they do.

Lena responds with an affirmation that it's fine, it just gave her a small heart attack. She's about to lock her screen again when she gets a message from Harley Keener.

HARLEY: hi, i have questions. 1) are you in venice? 2) why are you in venice? 3) why are you fighting a giant water monster in venice if you are there? 4) who is that dude with the green stuff?

HARLEY: i saw the news report and i'm like 95% sure that was you

LENA: 1) yes, i'm in venice, but now we're headed to prague, 2) school trip, 3) it just kinda happened, 4) don't freak out, but he's from another dimension and the water guy is called an elemental and they destroyed his version of earth, but now they're here, so we gotta fight them.

HARLEY: just avenger thangz

HARLEY: wait did you say anOTHER DIMENSION???

Lena snorts with a roll of her eyes. Peter's movement causes the earbud to slip out of her ear, so she turns to him in confusion. He reaches into his backpack at his feet and retrieves the glasses case Tony had given him. Lena watches silently, locking her screen as he slips the square frames on his face and turns to her.

Peter raises a brow. "How do I look?"

Lena masks her grin of amusement by mashing her lips together, nodding as she studies the large, slightly tinted lenses that overtake his face. "Uh... smart."

He releases a small laugh, but she still detects a hint of sadness in his eyes at the fact that he's wearing Tony's old glasses. She knows what he's thinking because she feels the same: that it should be Tony wearing the glasses, that he should still be here instead of–

Lena snaps herself out of her thoughts before they spiral too far down. She notices that Peter's mouth is pulled into a line as he stares into his lap, blinking back tears. It takes her a moment to remember that she can express her feelings now. Gently, she takes his hand and brings it up to her lips, pressing a light kiss on his knuckles. Peter turns toward her, flushing pink.

"What's this?" she asks and points to a small piece of paper tucked into the case.

Peter grabs it and turns it over, revealing a handwritten note that makes Lena's heart clench at the sight. He mumbles the words, "For the next Tony Stark, I trust you. P.S. Say EDITH."

Lena's eyes widen when the lenses glow a bright blue similar to the color of her energetic powers, then slowly return to their normal slightly-tinted shade. Judging by Peter's startled expression, there must be something else she's missing.

"Hello?" he asks quietly, a mirror of her earlier quote when she'd answered the FaceTime call. There's silence for a few moments. "So he made you for me? ...Cool."

"Uh, what's going on?" Lena questions, figuring that there must be an AI in the glasses that's talking to him, but she can't hear the voice.

"EDITH is Tony's security and defense system," Peter replies. He listens for a few moments before releasing a small huff of laughter. "It stands for 'Even Dead, I'm the Hero.'"

Lena can't quite manage the same tiny smile that's pulling up the corners of Peter's lips. The acronym hurts more than helps. Tony had programmed those glasses knowing that he would die.

The confines of the bus disappear. The overcast sky becomes choked with smog and overhanging clouds as dark as a rainstorm, the acrid stench of blood and battle stinging her nostrils. She can see him. She can see his pale, papery skin with the burns covering half of his face, which somehow seems so much older than it had only minutes ago. And Pepper is telling him it's okay to let go. Lena can feel the weight of Peter clinging to her as she stares blankly at the scene in front of her, but all she can do is watch. Everyone is crying – even Steve and Thor – but she feels an overwhelming sense of emptiness. A tendril of agony snakes up from the soles of her feet and worms its way into her heart, finally cracking it in two.

"Hey," Peter says, his voice effectively snapping her back to reality. The sky brightens again and the air becomes dry from the air conditioning circulating through the bus. Instead of Tony Stark's dying face, she's staring at the back of Ned's chair. Her gaze flickers to Peter's concerned expression. He takes her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "You okay? You zoned out."

"M'fine," Lena mumbles in response, squeezing his hand with hers.

Though he looks unconvinced, he doesn't push it. He merely gestures to everyone else. It takes Lena a moment to realize that they're all getting out of their seats and exiting the bus– probably for a bathroom break.

Graham pops up from the row in front of them, appearing to be in a much better mood now that he's taken a nap. He slings his earbuds around his neck and shoots them a grin. "Nice glasses, Peter. They're a bit big for your face."

Peter puts the EDITH glasses back in their protective case and zips his backpack shut. Lena grabs hers as well, sliding it onto her shoulders and following the excited hoard of students off of the bus. Betty leads their group down the steps and onto the dirt the bus has parked beside. However, once Graham hops down, Dmitri holds out a hand to stop him.

The dark-skinned boy shoots him a questioning look. "What, am I not allowed to go to the bathroom?"

Dmitri ignores his annoyed tone and wordlessly motions to a small building opposite the one that the other students are heading inside. They appear to have stopped in a small village– the buildings are made of wood and stone, framed by leafy green plants that tower above the simply-thatched rooftops. The small building Dmitri motioned to seems to be a pub, but the only giveaway is the pint of beer painted on the wall outside of the door. Picnic tables with light orange tablecloths are placed outside. Multicolored bicycles that are parked against the adjacent wall don't give the whole place a traditional bar feeling.

Next, Lena notices that the door is open and a woman is waving them inside. She casts an unsure glance at Dmitri, but he merely waves them along impatiently. The trio quickly scurries toward the small building and Graham is the first to step tentatively inside. The room directly in front of them is dark and empty, so he turns to the right and discovers a quaint dining area. Only a single bulb is lit in the center of the room. A tall woman with straight blonde hair stands directly beneath it, the light making her locks appear even brighter. Her leather jacket and standoffish expression make Lena think that she would get along well with Dmitri.

Graham glances around. Though Peter and Lena are tense, he seems more at home in a place this dark. He knows he can whisk them away if things go south here.

"Hello," Peter stiffly greets the woman.

"Close the door," is her heartfelt response.

He does as she asks, shutting the outside light away and causing the shadows to lengthen across the orange-stoned floor. Graham pointedly stays outside of the light's circle.

Eager to break the tension and be polite, as always, Peter rushes forward with his hand outstretched. "Um, I'm Peter Parker."

"Take off your clothes," the woman orders in a thick accent that Lena isn't familiar with.

Lena blinks. "Uh."

"Excuse me?" Peter asks.

The woman continues speaking so quickly that she nearly interrupts him. "You told Fury Spider-Man, Havoc, and Specter cannot be seen in Europe. So I made you these– another suit for each of you."

"Oh, wow," Lena says, heading toward her with a small smile of awe. "Thank you."

She looks over her shoulder and glares at Graham. After a moment, he sighs in resignation and moves from his spot near the door, also accepting his own suit.

Peter shifts hesitantly from foot to foot. "I'm sure they fit fine. I don't think we really need to try them on–"

"Take off your clothes!"

Graham turns to Peter with a shrug like he has nothing left to lose. "I won't look if you don't."

The blonde woman turns to Lena, who hadn't been given an impeccably-folded piece of fabric like the boys had. "Do you have the nano-suit Stark gave you?"

"Oh, yeah, it's right–" Lena shamelessly unbuttons her yellow-and-white striped blouse to reveal the black camisole underneath. The familiar X-shaped contraption sits comfortably on her chest.

The woman holds up a small circular device and attaches it to the center of the contraption that her suit usually spreads out of. It sticks like a magnet, hugging close to the gift from Tony without permanently binding to it.

"There," she says. "Now your suit will be black."

Lena can't help but think that this is pretty much where she started, just with nanotech.

She begins to turn around, but freezes in place when Graham exclaims, "If you turn around right now, I will cancel our Netflix subscription."

Her cheeks burn with the realization that the boys must be changing behind her. Lena isn't sure exactly how it's working. Knowing them, they're either facing opposite falls, or they just said fuck it and decided to get it over with as fast as they could.

Lena's heart drops into her gut at the sound of the doorknob twisting. Peter leaps behind her and the tall blonde in an effort to hide the fact that he's not wearing pants, shouting, "No, no no!" while Graham freezes in place with his shirt off and accepts his fate.

Brad Davis stands in the doorway with his mouth dropped open in shock. Lena shuts her eyes, wondering what god she angered to have this much bad luck. Out of all the people to walk in on this, it has to be him?

A shirtless Graham, pants-less Peter, and Lena facing the opposite way with her blouse open because she doesn't want to reveal her nanotech, but it just makes their situation look way more compromising. This looks very bad out of context.

"Uh—" Peter stammers.

"Sorry?" Brad says, widened eyes shifting from person to person like he doesn't know where to look. "I thought this was the bathroom—"

"This is not what it looks like," Peter affirms, hand outstretched like he's dealing with a rabid animal. His other hand is placed on Lena's left shoulder for balance.

"Yeah," Brad agrees, not sounding convinced at all, and then the flash goes off on the phone in his hand.

"Hey!" Lena exclaims, wishing she could turn all the way around because her neck is starting to hurt. She ultimately grabs both ends of her blouse and pulls them across her chest in an attempt to conceal part of her dormant suit before facing Brad. The action probably makes the situation look worse, but what else does she have to lose at this point?

"I'll leave you guys alone." Brad turns to leave, eyes glued to his screen. In an instant, the blonde pulls a pistol out of the waistband of her jeans and aims it at him.

Peter yanks his pants up and turns toward her desperately. "Don't shoot anybody! Brad?"

He zips his fly as he sprints after the boy, desperate voice decreasing in volume the farther away he gets. Lena works on buttoning her blouse again with her cheeks blazing heat. Dear God. That picture— what is he going to do with it? If it ends up on the internet and college boards see it, her chances at scholarships or jobs could be revoked. Graham might not get into Juilliard; even if he nails his audition, what will administration think if they Google his name and this pops up?

But Graham doesn't appear to share the same riot of anxious thoughts she has. He merely turns toward the blonde woman, completely nonplussed at the entire situation, shirt still in hand, and asks, "So does this mean you don't want me to try it on, or...?"

________

a/n:

today's memes of the chapter are brought to you by my extensive pile of college homework i should be doing but am neglecting to finish this chapter.

brad:

this chapter is late and is more of a filler because i thought i would be up to writing a lot over the christmas holiday (aka the three-week break i had at the end of the fall semester), but then i experienced massive writer's block for this story and only ended up writing for 2 of my other stories. it comforted me knowing that at least you guys had the parkos kiss to leave off on, but i also felt bad because you were all probably wondering what will happen next. this chapter mainly deals with lena's feelings toward their situation (as well as graham's) and her emotional state. putting the entire drone scene would have taken WAY too long, so here we are! (plus i didn't want this book to be like... ten chapters long, which is what's gonna happen if i don't space things out more).

in all honesty, i really am sorry for the long wait and i hope you enjoyed this chapter! what was your favorite part? i think mine was the conversation about the bets cindy, ned, and graham had or graham's mood of "you know those days when you're like 'this may as well happen'?" — john mulaney for the whole end lmao

—kristyn