Stunned entirely, I stare at Cheryl, my inside increasingly hardening with cold. She has to be kidding, right? Or am I simply that stupid?!

She scoots closer to me on the leather seat, moving on her knees, now, and my breath hitches at the top of my throat. Then, she starts laughing abruptly and slams her right hand on my left shoulder.

"Gosh, I'm messin' with you! You shoulda seen your face..!"

The woman lifts her left hand and wraps her slim fingers around my jaw, pivoting my head to make us face one another completely. Her vibrant green eyes plunge into mine, causing my heartbeat to derail from its normal rhythm. She is truly so outstandingly pretty... I inhale subtly, at a loss for words, thoughts, everything. Out of nowhere, the automobile violently swerves to the right, before coming to a sharp stop, sending Cheryl flying across my lap. Fortunately, her arms instinctively swung around my shoulders and neck, and I pressed my hand to her hip to minimize the momentum, thus avoiding that she hits her head on the doorframe.

Within the following seconds, it strikes me that I am touching her hip and she is embracing me. Horrified, I remove my hand from her jeans, although her left knee between my thighs and her face nuzzled above my collarbone and below my right ear are still very much problematic. I don't mean I dislike it, but this should not... This kind of proximity is not acceptable with someone I barely know whose life I am not currently saving. I am done saving her from brain trauma or an inoffensive cranium bruise.

Aware of my heavily thudding heart, I manage to evenly inquire:

"Are you alright?"

Cheryl lifts her body off of mine and brings her arm away from my shoulders, recuperating the spot she occupied to my left on the seat. A spot without any physical contact involving my person.

"Yes, thanks for catching me. It looks like we're here." She smiles at me, seemingly dazed or lost in thought.

"Yeah..! Thanks for the ride and the collar chain, too! Again."

I pick the gift box up from the floor of the limousine.

"Happy birthday..! Again! I'll text you!"

We wave each other good night as I exit the luxurious car, and then it vrooms away. I look down at my digital watch, clenching her present safely upon my chest with my other hand. 8h49 PM. At least, I only have to wait five minutes for the next bus.

~

Seated comfortably at the far right end of Joseph and Cedric's living room couch, I am distractedly watching the commercial break. The couple owns a 40-inch television screen and their sofa is covered in dark corduroy, but these are likely the two most costly components of their apartment. Tonight, they invited me over to watch a hurling game with them, as per our usual hang out practice. We have genuinely never done anything else than watch hurling games together, which is, incidentally, absolutely convenient.

Cedric is presently sat on a thrifted rattan armchair at the left extremity of the couch. Joseph is crunching away on a tortilla chip, concurrently setting a large plastic bowl of those down on the coffee table. Cedric asks me:

"Tanza, what are you doing next Saturday?"

To mentally conjure up my schedule more efficiently, I question him back.

"What date is that?"

His husband replies swiftly, chewing on another chip, "The second."

"On December 2nd, then," repeats Joseph's partner.

"I'm pretty sure that's my day off this week. Why do you ask?"

"Joseph and I are throwing together a kinda beginning-of-winter party. And, don't worry, something very small and cozy, with only a few of our friends..."

"Very chill vibes, like the cool kids would say."

We laugh at Joseph's joke.

"Would you consider coming?" concludes the middle-aged man, evidently not minding the interruption.

"Guys, it's really thoughtful of you to invite me, but I doubt I'll mingle well with your friends."

I communicated my regret upfront, yet I believe they are not disheartened.

Joseph, dipping a chip in a store bought tub of guacamole, playfully states, "You've got the soul of a forty-year-old gay, dear, that's not an issue."

I chuckle.

His spouse readjusts his round glasses atop his bulbous nose, before adding onto the statement.

"There will be younger people, anyway. We really want you to be there, Tanza."

His earnest words, straight to the point, are touching.

"You're doing this here?"

"Yep!" agrees the one sitting closest to me, licking a spot of guacamole off his thumb.

I see no logical reason to decline... Maybe strengthening a blossoming friendship with my neighbors is not a terrible idea..? And I can roller skate and pop by the gym in the morning... Those were my sole plans for Saturday.

"Okay, I'll come."

"Marvellous. We'll text you the details."

"Help yourself to some chips and guac, alright, dear..? Oh, it's starting!" Joseph grabs the TV remote and raises the volume eight levels louder than it was set at during the commercials.

~

I aimlessly consult my wristwatch, standing outside Dorothy's office. My shift began 35 minutes ago, right at the cusp of a major emergency. I scarcely got back from the scene; seconds ago I was still trepidating inside an elevator from the ambulance bay to obey Ms. Chapman. What does she want to see me for? What is so important that she could not tell me over our radios? I am about to find out, since she lets me in.

"I regret I had to summon you here during all of this. But we need to make something clear."

There is a possibility that she has watched the footage from an ambulance and caught me in the act of swapping evidence for my cards. After all, she has had access to these video clips all this time. I remain calm, hoping I have not been exposed. Her voice is neutral and commanding as always, and her crossed arms are not much of an indication either.

"The patients we have started to bring in this morning are, for the most part, recognized gangsters. I know you can handle criminals as patients. That is not the issue here."

Does she know..? It is too difficult to predict where she is going with this... Any moment now, my boss could confront me.

"My problem is with the cops. I brought you here to keep this matter discrete. I do not need this conversation recorded on our channel."

Oh, Lord. Oh no... Please, no. Surely, she will let me explain myself. How do I even justify my motivations to her without seeming crazy? Or maybe she has contacted them already to take me away with the other outlaws inside the hospital. I subtly ease my fists inside my pants' pockets, clenching them.

"In their manner of operations, I know they will barge in here, thinking they own the place. But this hospital is not theirs. I will not have them disrupting the fragile balance of our hospital, destroying our hard work. I want you to help me make sure that the criminals and victims are entirely separated, yes? When those officers rush into the rooms, they will arrest the gangsters swiftly and leave us to our duties. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I sigh imperceptibly, holding my relief back until our interaction is over.

"I knew I could count on you, Aguayo. Let's get back to work."

I speedily exit her office, moving in the direction of the nearest elevator. Dorothy is not aware of my interference! That hypothesis is not worthy of celebration, but I cannot prevent adrenaline from coursing even faster through my veins. The elevator's metallic doors finally slide open. I have to get down there and help... I jam my thumb forcefully onto the button, almost punching the control panel. Come on, come on...

At around 9 AM, extremely violent conflicts erupted at once in seven different zones of Gotham. This unsettling structure suggested gang activity, and this guess has been confirmed by law enforcement, along our own conclusions. The overwhelming majority of the corpses and the severely injured citizens we found are members of either one of two gangs: The Ballers or The Pepper Street Pumas. The Ballers have famously accepted to help The Voiceless Beasts with their operations more often than not. Recently, though, rumors propagated that their leader apparently had cut a deal with The Pepper Street Pumas. According to further whispers, the objective of their alliance would have been to claim a neighborhood that belongs to The Voiceless Beasts. These supposed schemes are supported by what I have seen so far. Those who are not Ballers or Pumas among our new patients are civilians or Beasts, however they are in minority. Their absence on our stretchers correlates to the idea that they were the assailants, not the oblivious prey. Or they were predators disguised as prey and turned the Pumas and the Ballers' attempt at taking them down against their attackers. I wonder what Cheryl knows of this situation, seeing as she is dating the chief of The Voiceless Beasts, The Bull. God willing, she is unharmed and we will meet again.

In the passing weeks since my birthday, I have converted more than half the time I spent sneaking around precarious locations into time spent hanging out with her. Mainly, I have been visiting her a lot at her workplace - not the strip club! No, of course not, I do not intend to ever set foot there. Actually, The Bull's girlfriend is also employed as a waitress at a themed diner: 'Rollers & Shakes'. Every month, the owners choose a new theme for the decorations and their employees' costumes. As though that was not eccentric enough, the waiters must wear roller skates at all times. Their brand is shockingly renowned and establishes their restaurant as an indispensable attraction that combines entertainment and a satisfactory meal.