"Bronx said he's getting on the first flight that he can," Mick announced after a silence that dragged on for too long.

Chicago couldn't be blamed for anything that transpired over the last few days, but Moxie still hated the city at that moment. She felt guilty even thinking about it. But how else was she supposed to feel when she had to convince herself to leave the hotel in the first place? She was nervous about leaving Cruella alone with a fully stocked mini-bar at her disposal, not to mention the hotel bar downstairs. But then that required reminding herself that Cruella Queen was a grown adult who had every right to make her own decisions. Did her concerns over the woman she admittedly didn't know that well outweigh said woman's autonomy?

Moxie didn't want to answer that question, hence her desperate phone call to her brother so he could check if Cruella's best friend Bronx could fly out.

The Chicago diner hosted a circus of patrons that passed in front of Moxie in a blur. On any other trip, she might have enjoyed her iced Americano. Or perhaps she would have entertained the small talk from the random person who tried to chat her up in line, complimenting Moxie on her talented friends' appearances in the drag show the other day. Instead, she politely thanked them for their kind words, promised that Stevie and Maverick would return one day, and replaced the earphones blasting Fleetwood Mac.

"Do you need me to fly out?" Mick asked, yanking Moxie away from her thoughts.

"No." She shook her head. "Nothing you can do for her that Bronx won't be able to. No offense."

"I wasn't asking for her. I was asking for you. Do you need me?"

She wanted to say yes. But she didn't. And she hated herself for it because if there existed one person in the world who Moxie could always count on to come to her rescue, Mick was that person. But what would he realistically do? Comfort her because the girl she was sleeping with had a hit piece-fueled one-night bender? And it stressed her out enough that she extended her Chicago trip a couple of days to help Cruella stay out of the public eye, even if it meant cutting it close for the next stop on her tour. The truth was that Moxie had no idea if she was overreacting and making a bigger deal out of it than she needed to. And if she had to face that realization, she preferred to do it without him there.

"No," she muttered into the phone.

Mick hesitated because he was her brother and knew her better than she knew herself most days.

"Are you sure?"

No. "Yes."

"Okay, well, Roxanne wants me to take a look at some stuff for this weekend so I have to go. But I'll loop you in once I hear back from Bronx, okay?"

Moxie nodded. Reminded herself he couldn't see her and verbally responded as well. "See you soon."

"Love you," Mick said.

"Love you."

The end of their phone call reminded Moxie too harshly that she was alone in the windy city.

She let mornings do what they do best and let her slowly wake up to the rest of the world, even though the snapshot of Chicago she was privy to looked up and running at full speed. When Roxanne sent her a short and sweet message about how Moxie could ask for her help with anything, she sent a quick reply thanking her.

After finishing her now room temperature coffee, Moxie took a deep breath. Tossed the empty cup in the trash before returning to the streets of Chicago. Moxie took her time walking back to her hotel since Cruella had been sleeping in. She stopped to enjoy the small park. Pet a dog who looked just like Rocky. Took off her beanie and let the Chicago breeze rush through her short hair.

By the time she made it back to the hotel, she felt much better about herself. Didn't even flinch when she stopped at the door and heard the television playing softly in the background. She walked inside and was hit with a wave of Cruella's floral perfume. She must have taken a shower.

"Hey, babe," Cruella said as she walked into the living room with a towel wrapped around her head. "What have you been up to?"

She had only witnessed it a few times now, but Moxie thought this was when Cruella looked most beautiful. Fresh out of the shower, her skin still glistening. Her freckles were on full display. Her hair fell in the softest of waves. Everything about her felt so bright and comforting like she could make any room feel full of light and love.

"Went for a walk to the park. Grabbed some coffee." Moxie held up a paper bag. "Chocolate croissants."

"Ooh, yum." Cruella skipped over. Kissed Moxie's cheek before snatching the bag away. She fell onto the couch and tucked her legs under before digging into the pastries. "See anything interesting on your walk?"

"Lots of bugs and men, unfortunately." Moxie stood there, tugging at her shirt.

"The worst." Cruella patted the space next to her. "You can sit."

Moxie shook her head. "I'm alright."

The blonde woman eyed her suspiciously but didn't react beyond a soft shrug of her shoulders. The soft watercolor glow of sunlight filtering through the window framed Cruella like a painting come to life. Moxie would have been content with spending the rest of her life in that hotel room if it meant getting lost in the vision of the woman who invented beauty.

Cruella made it through an entire croissant before placing the bag aside and shifting to face Moxie again. "Okay, seriously. You look like someone shit in your coffee this morning. What's wrong?"

Despite her concerns about whether she should start this conversation, Moxie kicked off her shoes and slowly approached the sofa. She sunk into the cushion and instinctively slid closer to Cruella who absentmindedly ran her fingers through the ends of Moxie's hair. Moxie loved short hair, especially on women, and the feeling of Cruella's fingertips massaging the nape of her neck led her to believe that might have been the sole reason.

"Do you mind if we talk about the other night?"

Cruella was talented enough to run through the appropriate mannerisms of someone with nothing to hide. (Or perhaps "talented" wasn't the best way to look at it.) But she was also human enough to let the facade slip momentarily. Just long enough for Moxie to see through it. The way her shoulders tensed and then dipped. The loss of a certain mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Strip Cruella Queen of all the glitz and glam and the world finally saw her for what she truly was—human.

"What about it?"

"Besides the whole running away and getting shit-faced part?" Moxie asked. (Cruella winced.) "What you said after was... concerning."

Cruella rubbed her temples. "I don't remember what I said."

That didn't come as a surprise. But it only fueled Moxie's concerns.

"You said that's all I'm good for. Eye candy for trashy men. Among other things." Moxie would rather vomit than repeat that sentence, or any other offhanded comment Cruella made when she was miles from sober. Nor did she have any intention of speaking any of that disgusting article out loud. "And I saw that... nasty blog. You couldn't dig something straight from the depths of hell itself half as bad as that."

It faltered again. The shiny exterior of Cruella Queen. She blinked a few times too quickly. Smiled the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. Moxie felt bad. Bad about bringing it up. About Cruella having to deal with all of the attacks in the first place. That the world sucked on so many unbelievable levels, and that she had no idea how to make any of it better.

"It's fine." Cruella brushed her off with a wave of her hand. "Wasn't the first time it happened and it won't be the last. I've gotten used to it."

Moxie frowned. "That's not a good thing. You shouldn't have to get used to something like that."

"Neither is what people are allowed to publish online but—" Cruella shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Easier said than done. That's how the world works."

"It shouldn't, though."

She laughed and rose from her seat. "Saying it won't change it."

"Cruella—"

"If I knew I was signing up for an interrogation, I would've just walked downstairs to the restaurant and gotten my own breakfast."

Moxie sat up and watched as Cruella crossed the living room, placing as much distance between them without outright walking off into another room. She flipped open the mini fridge and pulled out a small bottle of orange juice. Twisted off the top and tossed it into the nearest trash bin before setting her eyes back on Moxie. She had nothing to hide behind but still managed to paint another expression on her face to hide what she felt underneath, this mask more irritated than the last. Not quite as fortified as the bearer would have her believe, but headstrong enough to see the act through.

"I—" Moxie wasn't sure how to respond. A few years ago, she might have snapped back immediately. Shown her teeth and how hard they can bite. But she knew that never worked in any meaningful sort of way. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"I mean, god, I go out drinking one night and suddenly you're looking at me like you're ready to send me back to rehab."

Cruella started pacing after discarding the half-empty orange juice. Moxie fiddled with her fingers, truly regretting even bringing it up. She probably should have let it go and monitored the situation instead of jumping the gun right away. They hadn't even left the city yet. The proximity to that night, both in time and distance, was too close for comfort.

"We can talk about this another time."

Cruella stopped by the doorway leading to the bedroom and rested her head against the frame. "And what if I don't want to? What if I'm tired of talking to friends and therapists and anyone who will actually listen about how much people hate me? How men will use me in any way they can and get away scot-free? I'm tired, Moxie. I don't want to talk about this shit anymore, okay? I don't need someone else to pretend like they care about whether I spiral into oblivion before they realize I'm a mess who isn't worth the trouble. Just drop it, okay?"

Moxie didn't get a chance to respond before Cruella slammed the bedroom door shut.