It was a good thing Cruella sat next to her because Moxie didn't realize how difficult it would be watching Eddie's match. Sneaking glances at a beautiful woman who was not actively getting punched in the face helped distract her from the weird feeling in her gut over watching something violent, even if she respected the sport itself and, especially, watching women kick ass. She felt silly about it considering she regularly watched cars drive around going hundreds of kilometers an hour. Clearly, she wasn't that risk-averse.

Her only saving grace was that she knew she looked much better than Everleigh. Nurse Meadowlark alternated hiding behind Maverick's and Moxie's shoulders, wincing every time Eddie took a hit that looked like it hurt... which meant nearly every second of the match. Everleigh Meadowlark could wear a paper bag and look like a million bucks, but green wasn't her best color at that moment.

Cruella, on the other hand, looked like a kid dropped in the middle of the world's largest arcade, a handful of game tokens. Her eyes didn't know where to land—darting all around, taking flight like she was surrounded by flashing lights and omniscient voices screaming at her exactly what she wanted to hear to play their games. Moxie knew there had to be something more to it, something that Cruella was keeping secret, though she didn't dare question her on it while they were still at the match and surrounded by people who were doing a terrible job pretending like they weren't aware of her presence. Moxie dodged sneak attack pictures snapped conspicuously.

Throughout the match, Cruella tried her best to explain to Moxie what was happening, and Moxie tried even harder to follow along. The former described the differences in their fighting style, which made everything more easily observed. Parker, Eddie's opponent, had a height advantage and maneuvered around the ring with a distinct awareness of where her body was and where Eddie was. What Eddie lacked in height she made up for in defiance. A refusal to back down even when faced with odds that seemed stacked against her.

Moxie saw the exact moment, right before round three, when everything inside Eddie kicked into overdrive. An intense fire lit within her eyes that saw no chance of being extinguished. Whatever was building up inside Eddie could burn down the entire world if she wanted it to. Her coach talked into her ear while her eyes fixated on her opponent, dressed in blood and exhaustion, while wearing a few too many battle scars of her own. It was all too easy to get carried away by the look in those eyes. To see the determination and strength that fortified them. Moxie was finally able to tear herself away from the art piece sitting beside her and focus solely on the dance playing out in front of her between two artists who were a masterclass.

Eddie was a strategic fighter and took full advantage of the weakness starting to plague Parker's hits. Even when the latter managed to land a few, the former returned the favor, and then some. With Parker's back against the ropes, clinging to what little strength she had left, Eddie continued the barrage of hits, each stronger than the last.

And then, after sustaining one final blow, Parker slumped over until she completely fell over. Eddie stood there, watching her opponent lie still on the ground. The referee stood over Parker and counted as the crowd hushed to a low thrum like a bass note.

Once Eddie's wrist was raised into the air, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. The champion of the night lifted her other, a smile stretched wide across her face. It didn't take long for her to tear herself away so she could hug her coach who had ducked into the ring.

Eddie stood there at the top of her game, soaking in all of that glorious applause. Moxie had never met her before and yet she understood, without a doubt, that there was nowhere else that Eddie Yamaguchi would rather—or deserved—to be.

Of course, Moxie couldn't help herself. She stole another glance at Cruella, whipped as one could ever possibly be. The woman beside her, the beaming golden light of beauty, sat in awe of what she had just witnessed.

Moxie didn't understand it. She didn't understand how someone who was the entire show herself could be so wildly entertained by anything else. Everything and everyone else paled in comparison.

...

"Akuma, my friends." Well, that was a strong declaration for two people he had just met. "Moxie and Cruella. Voila."

Up close and personal for the first time with Eddie Yamaguchi meant witnessing too many details of the gore that came with boxing. She sported a black eye that made Moxie feel sore just looking at it, a split lip whose scarlet stain accentuated said black eye, and a stylish pair of bruised knuckles. It was almost enough to completely distract Moxie from the impressive uniform—white robe with ruby-hued accents, matching red shorts and sports bra, skin slightly glossy with sweat along with a towel tossed over her shoulder. Fucking Christ, Moxie was a certified Lesbian.

"You were incredible, wow," Cruella gushed. Starstruck by the champion. "It's such an honor to meet you! Congrats!"

Eddie smiled from behind the pack of ice held to her eye. "Great to meet you, and thank you so much! I hope you guys had a good time!"

Moxie tried to hide the smile on her face when she saw how sick Everleigh still looked. The discomfort on her face had only grown more prominent now that they were standing in front of Eddie. She could have walked straight onto the stage for her debut performance as Elphaba with how green she was.

"Right. Great job. Proud of you," she managed before holding up three fingers. "Quick question, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Which eye do you want me to use—"

It was a miracle Everleigh didn't throw up right then and there.

"Kidding." Eddie tossed the ice pack aside. "The medical attendant already cleared me. Three. Does that help?"

Probably not, Moxie mused.

"No," Everleigh confirmed. Didn't even bother looking at her anymore. Damn near looked at every square inch of that room that Eddie Yamaguchi wasn't in.

"Thought she was going to pull out her homework just to look somewhere else," Moxie said.

"What are you studying for?" Cruella asked, probably trying to connect the dots.

"Just started my doctorate of nursing practice."

"Nice." Cruella gently elbowed Moxie's side. "Mox, if I knew you and all of your friends were this cool and talented, I would've run into you sooner."

There was nothing more Moxie would have loved than to have had their strings intertwined much earlier than they had. All that time passed seemed wasted knowing that someone like Cruella was somewhere out there all that time.

"I'm just the resident nepo baby. They're the cool self-made ones" Moxie said instead of being the sappy, tragically poetic lesbian she was.

Cruella frowned like a sad puppy over her self-deprecation.

Moxie shifted her focus back to Eddie. "Do those things last long?"

The bruised boxer shrugged. "About a week. Not that bad."

Everleigh winced. Not that bad. "Unless it's fractured."

"No nurse-splaining." Maverick poked her.

"At least you pull it off," Moxie pointed out. Cruella nodded along enthusiastically. A stamp of approval from the other sapphics in the room was all a woman needed.

Eddie laughed before grabbing a couple of shirts from the box next to her and tossing them over to the group. (Everleigh notably did not receive one.) (It would only serve as a reminder of the utter pain she endured having to watch people willing beat each other up for fun and the love of it all.) "Flattery will get you somewhere. Here. Thanks for coming."

"Do you have any plans after this?" Cruella asked. "Besides icing that thing or something. Would love to buy you a drink and pick your brain a little if you're not too tired."

The gears were turning in her head, alright. Moxie saw it. Admired it. Wished she had the privilege of understanding longer than the tragically short amount of time they had spent together so far. Cruella was lost in wonderland and Moxie had willingly tumbled down with her. Even if she had a show tomorrow, and probably should have made sure she got enough sleep for it, she was ready to follow her wherever she wanted to go.

"Oh, uh, we—I was going to—" Eddie stumbled. Not at all subtle that she had other plans for the night. Plans that, if Moxie had to guess—and without much thought—involved the fake lesbian standing on the other side of Cruella. "I'd love to. Drinks are on me, don't worry."

"Absolutely not," Cruella refused quickly, "but sounds good. There's this cool place I went to before. Nice and lowkey."

"Leigh?" Moxie asked, pausing before tacking on, with a little hesitation. "And... Mav?"

Maverick turned to his other half who still looked ready to keel over at any moment's notice. Probably for the best that they retired for the night, which was unfortunate for the sapphics. Everleigh was nice eye candy. (Moxie reminded herself that she was also ridiculously smart and cool and all those other non-objectifying things.) (Was she no better than a man? Surely she had to be.)

"I think we might tuck in for the night," he said, "but you guys have fun. Congratulations, Yamaguchi. Well done."

"Congrats. Yeah." Everleigh pulled through enough for that and that only.

"Thank you," Eddie said. "Enjoy your night."

Everleigh and Everleigh's boyfriend departed from the group quickly leaving the four of them behind. Axel looked to have briefly caught his own reflection in the mirror and quietly laughed while admiring his own shirt. Fucking Christ. Moxie was glad she didn't gift him a laugh earlier.

"Do we have time for me to take a shower?" Eddie asked.

Moxie wasn't sure why she needed to before begrudgingly remembering Axel's existence.

"Yeah," Cruella said. "I'm gonna steal Axel while you're gone so he can show me those pics. Take as long as you need. We'll wait around."

The three of them followed in their friends' footsteps, this time leaving Eddie to clean herself up for drinks. Cruella's sickly sweet enthusiasm over getting a sneak peek at Axel's portfolio for the night instantly bonded her to the photographer. He guided the two of them over to where his things were before re-routing them in the direction of seating.

While Moxie was ready to follow Cruella anywhere, including allowing her to follow a man, an all-too-familiar face appeared in the crowd. So small and blurry that Moxie almost didn't notice him. But, just as he always managed to do, he found a way to command her attention enough that she recognized she was being reeled in even when it was the last thing she wanted for herself.

She tried to be subtle as she weaved her way through the crowd, trying not to get swept up in the current as everyone funneled toward the exit. Every time she drifted over in another direction to get around someone, Moxie made sure to keep her eyes latched onto his head floating just above the rest of the crowd. Patrick Callaghan was tall which helped him look more intimidating when he was speaking to someone. Moxie was too familiar with that gut-wrenching feeling around him, or even from just thinking of him.

"Patrick." He turned to her. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm out with friends tonight. What about you? Don't you have a show coming up?"

His questions went unanswered. She glanced around their vicinity like she was the guilty criminal worried about getting caught, nervous that anyone would see them and recognize them, which was profoundly silly considering they had a well-documented history that involved their families.

Who would ever think there was something else there? Something that made Moxie want to crawl out of her skin and disappear into the dirt forever. He was Uncle Pat, after all. Uncle Pat was cool and gave them so many presents when they were kids. Uncle Pat let them run all over the empty studio when they were dreaming of becoming singers. Uncle Pat was... Uncle Pat.

"Since when were you interested in boxing?"

"Since said friends invited me," he answered. Patrick stepped closer to get out of the way of someone carrying heavy equipment behind him, and Moxie felt all the air get sucked out of the room as if they were being swallowed by a black hole. "That was a good fight, wasn't it? Jenny was a knockout."

"Eddie," Moxie corrected. "Her name is Eddie."

"Yeah, her." Patrick smiled down at her. "Do you know her?"

"Not officially, no." She crossed her arms. "But I know her enough to call her by the correct name."

"Is it that serious?" he asked.

"I wouldn't have corrected you if it wasn't."

"Easy mistake."

She tilted her head. "Was it?"

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't." Patrick was close enough now that his cologne wrapped around her, suffocating her to the point where all she wanted to do was find the easiest route to escape outside. Her fingers itched for the pack of cigarettes stuffed into the pocket of her leather jacket. "Is something wrong? You've been acting weird ever since I stopped by your show."

"Is there something..."

What was there to say that hadn't already been etched into every nightmare? While everyone had gone on living with the facade that Moxie grew up happy and carefree with all of the world at her fingertips, she had spent years trying to mend every crack in her body, every ache that still creaked, every wound that still throbbed with pain every time it rained. Whenever Moxie felt like she was making progress, finding a way to live with all that haunted her past, the demons found a way to crawl back into her life, clutching onto whatever wretched part of her remained intact.

It was easier to put up a strong front when she had her brother by her side. Mick was the calm to her stormy waters. Even in moments when Mick had no idea what was going on, the sound of his voice made everything in the world feel much safer.

She knew it wasn't the time or place to get into it with Patrick. There were endless feelings to resolve, but the knots formed had spent years fortifying themselves with each passing moment she let everything build up inside her. Standing in the middle of a boxing event, across from yet another man who made her question everything about herself, was not on the itinerary for the night.

Without saying another word, Moxie raced away from him, tail between her legs. Her fingers shook as she searched desperately for the nearest exit. Tears threatened to spill onto the stained linoleum floor. But the show had to go on, so she sucked it up, replaced all those skeletons onto the hangers in her closet, and smiled for the security cameras before she walked outside. The smoke was filling up her lungs before the latch locked into place.

...

"You too?"

Eddie almost jumped at the sound of her voice shooting out of the dark. Moxie stood off to the side—cigarette dangling from her fingertips, smoke filtering through the cool night breeze, and a frown etched onto her face. Moxie hoped she didn't look half as bad as she felt.

"Need a light?" she asked, holding out her lighter—black with a red rose. They met halfway and she lit Eddie's cigarette. The cut in her lip was illuminated by the glow of their burning cancer sticks. "Are you sure that's—" She gestured toward the lip. "—alright?"

Eddie responded after exhaling. "Is it worrisome if I say it's never stopped me before?"

"Mildly," Moxie responded. "But I'm not an athlete so I've never been pressured to, you know, push my body to the limit sort of thing."

Even if she was physically capable of lasting one round in the ring, Moxie was probably too squeamish to try. And the last thing she needed was her lip getting busted open so it made it too difficult to take a shot of whiskey.

"Pushed through similar things on stage, though, I bet. It should be fine. Thank you for checking."

"Afraid I can't offer much help on the sneaking away to smoke front, though."

Eddie was smart. Or she was trying hard to forget about whatever caused her to seek a momentary getaway. "If it's not my place, you can say so. But I can't imagine you'd be out here if you were okay..." Yeah, she was smart, even though Moxie was not emotionally prepared to open up about all her demons to a stranger, seven degrees removed. "So. So. Here if you want to talk. Will buy you a drink at the bar if you don't."

"I don't know, I think if a man bothers a woman, a man should be the one to make up for it." Moxie was good at shifting the conversation away from why she was upset because of a man to why a man needed to accept responsibility for the anger, even if that man wasn't at fault. "How's Axel's photography gig going?"

"Ha, well. He's in a little bit of shit for being the only one to not submit photos of my... reason for suspension. I'm sure tonight was fine. I was advised to be on my best behavior, after all."

"Volunteering tonight's on Axel, then. Celebrating his new gig." Moxie took a brief break from the conversation for another drag from her cigarette. "Bash told me about the whole suspension thing. It's bullshit. Men get away with murder and we have to apologize for wanting to be treated as qual. You didn't deserve that. You definitely deserve better than to have that asshole announcing your fight tonight."

One of the more amusing developments in her social life was her friendship with Brendon Ellis. Only someone as kind as him could so easily form a bond with her even after her little (almost) fling with Stevie. They discussed his F1 season since, despite the Hawaiian singer's best efforts, Moxie understood the sport a bit more. He appreciated the unbiased spectator insight she gave. Moxie had even gotten VIP tickets from him for the Canadian Grand Prix. She thought it was hilarious that Mick was her plus one. (Sucker.)

Stevie had drunkenly called him after karaoke the other night so she could tell him a thousand times how much she loved him. Bash clued her in on Eddie's suspension after Stevie mentioned showing Moxie some clips of her fights. (Giovanni, the announcer from the fight tonight, deserved more than a punch in the face for what he said.) When Moxie was browsing social media later that night, on account of not being able to sleep, mostly because she hadn't been able to get Cruella out of her head, she watched a few clips where Bash spoke out in interviews in support of Eddie. Moxie hated how few male athletes had done so. Bash was the first out of the gate, then a bunch of women. Hell, Idris Johnson was enjoying retirement and still managed to say a hell of a lot more than people still active in the industry.

"Yeah, well. Guess that's how it works. Unfair, but... What else is new?" Eddie looked desperate to get the attention back off of her. The two of them were volleying it back and forth like a hot potato. "You need someone to punch an unnamed annoying man number 2300, just let me know. Good behavior voucher was for tonight only. I'm sorry you guys had to go through it too."

"There's a couple people who could get their lights knocked out and I wouldn't bat an eye but I'm trying not to let them get to me," Moxie said. She didn't how well she was succeeding in that department. "It gets kind of tiring, you know?"

"Yeah. I know. Wish we could do something more about it."

Moxie rubbed her thumb along the butt of her cigarette. Smoking was one of her worst habits, and yet she couldn't quite let go of the comfort it brought her in times like this.

"We should probably consider preventing lung cancer so maybe that'll keep us busy from worrying about all that other stuff."

The two of them took another drag each before stomping their cigarettes into the ground. Probably both imagined they were pulverizing someone else instead. "You're probably right. Do you know where the other two are?"

"Honestly, no idea. Last I saw, he was running to grab his laptop. We should probably go find them."

Eddie and Moxie took the scenic route back inside—partially to enjoy the silence, but mostly because they had no choice since the exit doors didn't have handles to go back inside. By the time they made it inside the venue, most of the audience had cleared out leaving behind staff working on cleaning up the mess left behind.

Axel and Cruella were sitting down, giggling at something on his laptop. They looked as if they had known each other for years and were laughing at the world's greatest inside joke.

"At least they're having a good time," Moxie said.

"Glad someone is."

Moxie snuck a quick glance to the right before they made their way over to the rest of their party. It didn't take a genius to conclude that Eddie was in the process of discovering a once-in-a-lifetime realization of what this person meant to her. She and Axel looked at each other like a drowning man taking his first breath of sweet, fresh air.

"Got any good shots?"

They both screamed. Axel jumped and almost dropped his laptop.

"Fucking hell," Cruella said. "Where did you two come from?"

Eddie answered, "The rafters, of course."

"They wouldn't let me go on the catwalk—" Axel paused. "You're kidding, aren't you?"

"We just walked in, my guy." Her guy, alright.

Moxie scoffed. "Not that either of you would've noticed."

"Axel was showing me something," Cruella replied, smiling a little too devilish-like.

"Care to share with the class?" Eddie asked.

The two of them shared a look before laughing.

"Maybe after editing," Axel said. "They're not ready for final presentation."

Cruella's phone buzzed. She smiled, again. Made it worth being kept in the dark when Moxie got to bask in the glow of that smile.

"This is why I don't trust men."

Axel nodded at Moxie. "I respect that."

"I'm not sure she cares if you do or not—" Eddie said.

"Axel," Moxie started, "remember when you said you'd buy us drinks? Let's go get some."

He most definitely did not say that, but Moxie was down in the dumps, which meant the closest man in her vicinity was tasked with making up for it. Unfortunately for Axel—though Moxie liked to think he was still fortunate enough to be allowed to have drinks with them, she wasn't going to say that out loud—that meant him.

"... Sure. Let's go... girls."