Everyone had returned to the waiting room, except for Kendall. Marcia was seated alone, a few feet away from Greg, and the others were scattered around. Izzy had laid her head on Charles' lap, his fingers gently combing through her hair. The low hum of the room was interrupted only by the occasional movement or muttered conversation.

Greg, after sitting quietly for a while, suddenly got up and walked over to Marcia. Izzy noticed Marcia's posture shift-a subtle sigh as Greg settled beside her. She didn't miss the way Marcia's body language closed off slightly, the discomfort radiating from her.

Greg, oblivious to the shift, began speaking in that overly earnest way of his. "He... He doesn't deserve this. It's just so unfair. He's a great... man. He, like, let me come to his birthday lunch. And he offered me a job. Right? He doesn't deserve this. And... so, if there's anything that I can do, let me know."

Izzy turned her head, half-listening, half-focused on the slight change in Marcia's demeanor. She noticed her quiet discomfort. That was enough for her to decide it was time to act. "Actually, there is something," Izzy said, her voice cutting through the room.

Greg looked up, eager to be of help. "OK."

Izzy, still relaxed against Charles, didn't shift her position but made the request, her tone casual but with intent. "Can you go to the apartment and get his bed things and slippers? The ones with the dark checks. You don't mind?"

Greg blinked, not quite expecting such a task, but the eagerness in his voice was clear. "No, no. I'd be... respectfully, uh, somberly willing."

"Thank you," Izzy replied, giving him a small nod.

Greg, still unsure but willing, asked, "Now?"

Izzy's response was quick, sharp, with just the right level of annoyance. "Please."

Greg immediately stood up. "OK. All right," he muttered, heading toward the door.

Shiv, having overheard the exchange, leaned in toward Izzy. "Izzy, we can get Colin or the driver to go and get his things," she offered, a more pragmatic suggestion.

Izzy turned slightly toward Shiv, her expression flat. "I don't need this fly buzzing in my face," she said with a small dismissive wave.

Marcia, noticing the exchange, mouthed a silent "Thank you" to Izzy, the gratitude silent but understood.

Izzy nodded back.

A few hours later, the waiting room had thinned out, and only Conor and Willa remained. Izzy and Charles moved through the space with quiet ease, their presence not demanding attention, but still undeniable.

Izzy nodded at Conor and Willa, barely acknowledging them as she offered a quick, "Bye" to Conor, a gesture more out of obligation than anything else. Charles, as always, was the one who spoke the words Izzy didn't feel like offering. "Take care," he said to Conor, then nodded at Willa.

They made their way toward Marcia, who was sitting alone now, her eyes tired but focused. Izzy stopped in front of her, her tone polite but with an edge that suggested there was no need for small talk. "Take care of yourself," she said. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold. It was simply factual.

Marcia's eyes met hers, and she gave a small, weary nod. "Thank you."

Izzy turned away without waiting for anything more, walking toward the door with Charles following close behind.

--------------------

Izzy sat behind her desk, reviewing the upcoming schedule with her secretary, Gabriel, a no-nonsense man and a friend who'd learned long ago how to work around her moods. He stood at the edge of the desk, providing updates on the various meetings and deals that needed her attention. A few of the board members had joined them in the office for the briefing, standing in a loose semi-circle around the desk.

"Next meeting, as scheduled," Gabriel said, ticking off items from his list. "Blackstone Partners at 2 PM. Frank's team is still trying to play it safe with the Finley bid, but they're expecting to push for more tomorrow. Also, the ÉCLAT acquisition strategy-still no movement, but they've asked for a 30-day extension on the proposal."

Izzy nodded slightly, not looking up from the papers. "Keep pushing them. I don't care if they need more time. If they're not in at the end of that month, we'll just drop the offer completely. And if they come back with more bids we'll tell them to shove it up their ass." She paused and then glanced at the others in the room, her eyes moving from the COO, Mark, to the Treasurer, Amelia, and then to the Director of Communications, Jason. "We're here to fucking win. Got it?"

Mark, always eager to please, nodded quickly. "Understood. I'll prepare the counteroffer for tomorrow."

Izzy exhaled, leaning back in her chair with one hand on her chin. She briefly glanced at her phone, seeing the name "Shiv" flash across the screen. Without hesitation, she answered the call, but before Shiv could say anything, Izzy simply ended the call with a swipe of her finger, cutting her off.

The others in the room seemed unfazed by the action or maybe did not notice, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of Izzy's mouth. She returned her attention to the board and the meeting.

Gabriel continued with the agenda, his voice steady. "As for the upcoming gala-the RECNY Ball-Connor wanted more decorations. The diamond chandeliers you've drawn up are looking good. They'll need prototypes soon. We've already secured the stones you requested."

Izzy leaned forward, reviewing the sketches she'd drawn, the croquis of delicate, intricate pieces. She wasn't just designing jewelry for the gala; she was cementing Aurora Luxe's reputation as the go-to name for high-end, one-of-a-kind pieces.

It was about power.

Every piece she created had a purpose, every diamond, every facet, a reflection of the empire she was building.

She narrowed her eyes, thinking through the logistics. "I want those prototypes ready before the end of the week. Have them shipped to me for final approval," she said coldly, tapping a pen against the desk. "Let's make sure everything's top-tier. As for the stones, I want something that speaks to "wow" without being so obvious. The best quality, but don't make it a fucking circus. I'm not in the mood for gaudy."

Amelia, the treasurer, spoke up hesitantly. "And the auction details for the gala? Will we be placing a reserve on some pieces, or will it be open bidding?"

Izzy shot her a quick look, her patience wearing thin. "I want everything sold. No reserve. Make them fight for it. If they want it, they'll fucking pay for it. The moment they back off, we've lost. We don't let people play the 'maybe' game." She turned her gaze to Jason, the Director of Communications. "And I want press at that auction. A solid media push for after the gala. Everything-those pieces, the lights, the dresses-everything. Make it so good people can't ignore it."

Jason nodded quickly. "We'll work with the media team to secure coverage."

Izzy sat back, a sharp smile pulling at her lips as she thought about the upcoming event. "Good. And don't waste my time with people who don't know how to act. I don't want anyone breathing the same air as me who isn't relevant. Got it?"

"Got it," Gabriel answered, looking at the rest of the board for confirmation.

Izzy waved them off. "Okay, we're done here. Get to work. If I need anything, I'll call. If you're still here in ten seconds, I'll know you're not doing your jobs. So, fuck off."

The board members gathered their papers and quickly filed out, each nodding respectfully as they left. Gabriel hesitated, then turned to Izzy.

"Anything else for today?" he asked, already anticipating her answer.

She didn't even look up, already diving into the next round of paperwork. "Yeah, get me someone from Façon this week. I need to talk to them. I want a face-to-face meeting with their chairman."

Gabriel hesitated for a second, knowing that getting a meeting with Façon would take some effort, but he didn't hesitate long enough to earn any more of her irritation.

"Sure thing," he said, quickly stepping away as Izzy continued to sort through her papers.

The moment the door closed, she allowed herself a small, knowing smile. She had her eye on Façon for months. The magazine's cultural influence was unmatched, and she needed it-needed it for more than just status. She needed it to push Aurora into the next phase of its growth.

Izzy wasn't content with just being a jewelry designer. She wanted to dominate the fashion industry. Façon would give her access to a whole new world of buyers, investors, and influencers-people who would appreciate the luxury of her high jewelry pieces while giving them the accessibility they needed to attract a broader audience. She wasn't just after the high-end customers. She wanted to make her pieces available to anyone who was willing to pay for them, and Façon would be the perfect vehicle to push that agenda forward.

But Façon was a tough nut to crack. They had been hesitant, holding out as they tried to maintain their image of exclusivity. But Izzy wasn't about to let that stop her. She knew how to play the game, and she knew when to push, when to let them think they were in control, and when to make her final offer.

And when she was done, Façon would be hers.

Her phone buzzed again, and without even looking at it, she hit the button to turn it over. It was from Shiv: "Bitch."

Izzy's lips curled into a smile, her fingers brushing across the screen. She didn't bother responding.

--------------------

It was around 3:30 PM when Izzy wrapped up her meeting with Derek, her private investigator. She had hired him to dig into the finances of a rival company-a company she was keen on acquiring, but she needed more than just the basics. She needed leverage, and Derek had come through, providing details that would give her the upper hand in negotiations. The meeting had been efficient, and the plan was now in motion. She was about to leave, heading to her father's apartment to join Kendall for their next round of strategizing.

As she stood up to leave, gathering her things, Derek followed her toward the door. He was fumbling with a manila folder, clearly a little uncomfortable in his surroundings, but Izzy wasn't paying him much mind. She was already thinking ahead-another task to check off her list, another step toward solidifying her position.

As the door to the office opened, the guard stood outside, ready to usher her to the car. But before she could take another step, Derek called to her.

"Ma'am, ma'am. I'm sorry, but uh... I forgot to give you this paper. For the background check," he said, his voice slightly higher than usual, a touch of uncertainty in his tone.

Izzy paused, glancing back at him with an eyebrow raised, clearly confused. "A background check?" she asked, her voice steady.

Derek realized immediately that he had perhaps overstepped. "Yes, for the one you..."

Izzy didn't let him finish. The wheels in her mind were already turning. Who the hell would need a background check now? She wasn't expecting any new intel, and everything seemed to be under control. Maybe Derek had gotten confused-perhaps it was meant for someone else. Maybe one of the family members. A little mistake like that wouldn't be the end of the world, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

She smiled, sweetly but with a sharp edge. "C'mon, you can tell me. Who's it for?" she asked, her voice friendly, just friendly enough to make it seem like she wasn't about to push for more than he was willing to share.

Derek hesitated. "It's probably best if I don't tell you, Mrs. Roy. I wouldn't want to lose my job-"

Izzy's patience was running thin. She was already late for her next stop, and the last thing she wanted was to waste more time. She rolled her eyes, the hint of annoyance creeping in as her smile faltered. "Urg, fais pas chier," she muttered under her breath. Then, louder, more demanding: "Can you at least tell me who the check is about? I don't have all day."

Derek stammered, still reluctant to answer. She watched him for a moment, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hold out for long. She was a Roy, after all. And when a Roy wanted something, they got it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Derek sighed and spoke. "Marcia."

Izzy blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the response. She quickly composed herself, her face giving nothing away. She had to admit, that was interesting. Marcia had always been a bit of a mystery to her, but the fact that someone was doing a background check on her-well, that felt like an opportunity. Izzy's mind raced, quickly processing the implications of this new information.

"Thank you," Izzy said, her voice smooth, as though she wasn't particularly moved by the revelation, but she knew it would come in handy later. "I'll take it from here."

She didn't give him another chance to speak. Izzy turned and walked out the door, her heels clicking on the floor as she headed for the waiting car. As she settled into the back seat, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Hey," she said. "Yeah, I'm on my way, but, um, I got the background check about Marcia. Oh, you didn't? Really? Well uh, wow, I must've just gotten confused. Yeah, no, I'm sure. Bye-bye."

She hung up, a small smile curling on her lips.

--------------------

Izzy sat in Logan's living room with Rava and her nieces, Iverson and Sophie. They were all waiting, the low hum of conversation filling the otherwise quiet space. Izzy wasn't overly concerned about Logan being out of sight; if Marcia was pulling something shady, she knew exactly what she'd do-deal with it, no hesitation. Simple as that.

Kendall's voice cut through the room as he stepped out of the elevator, greeting his soon-to-be ex-wife and kids first. "Hey, guys," he said, a forced cheerfulness in his voice.

"Finally. Hi," Rava responded with a slight smile.

"Hey, sweetie," he said to Sophie, giving her a quick hug. "What's up, slugger?" he added to Iverson, getting a greeting in return.

Rava gave a sarcastic laugh. "Thanks for joining us."

Kendall seemed a little on edge. "Actually, I can't stay long."

Rava rolled her eyes. "Apparently goes for us too. Aunt Marcia won't let us see Grandpa. Right, kids? Huh?"

Kendall walked over to Izzy, who was seated nearby. "Hey, Belle," he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

"Hey," she replied simply.

Kendall turned to head up the stairs but paused at the elevator when he realized Izzy wasn't following. He turned back, giving her a questioning look. "You ready?"

Izzy stood and walked up to him. "Uh-uh, I'll be when you tell me what the fuck is going on, yeah? I mean ,I thought we were supposed to talk."

Kendall hesitated for a moment, then spoke quickly. "Yeah, I'll explain, but right now-"

Izzy cut him off. "Nuh-uh. You go tell him. I won't go in there when I don't even know what I'm getting myself into."

Kendall nodded, rubbing his forehead. "Euh, okay-yeah. I'll go by myself then."

Izzy waved him off, her expression indifferent. "She won't let you in, but..."

Kendall took the stairs up, headed to speak to Marcia, but it wasn't long before he returned. Izzy could tell by the look on his face that it hadn't gone well.

"I'll pass by your apartment later," Kendall said as he approached her.

Izzy gave a slight nod. "Okay," she replied simply.

--------------------

Isabelle sat on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, sipping her tea and scrolling through her phone. It was one of those nights where nothing seemed to make sense. Kendall's message sat on the screen, all about how he'd figured out a way to cover the company's debt, thanks to Stewy, of course. As she read through it, her face didn't twitch with anger. No, that would have required effort, and she had no energy for that tonight. Instead, she just felt a weird mix of amusement and sheer disbelief.

"How the hell did I end up with someone so fucking stupid?" she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. She didn't even bother replying with anything more than a "You sick fuck." He'd leave her on read, probably off drawing himself into a pile of coke, and it wouldn't change a thing.

She tossed the phone aside, took another sip of her tea, and tried to focus on the news. But the words just didn't stick. Nothing did. She knew Charles was nearby, sorting through some paperwork or whatever, but the endless stream of thoughts in her head made it hard to focus on anything.

When Charles entered the room, papers in hand, she barely acknowledged him at first, still lost in her own thoughts.

He started talking about the houses they could potentially move to in the UK, casually listing locations like London, Edinburgh, and Oxford. But it was clear from the way he spoke that his heart was set on one place: Highgrove.

This wasn't the first time Charles had brought up the idea of moving. A few years ago, he had mentioned it-how he didn't really care for New York, how he wanted something quieter, more serene. At the time, Izzy hadn't given it much thought. She didn't particularly care where they lived. She had her own life, her own space, and the idea of moving somewhere new didn't seem pressing. She was indifferent, not because she didn't care about him or his wishes, but because nothing truly felt important enough to change the status quo.

But now, with Charles bringing it up again, she was starting to feel torn. Her mind wandered back to his words about Highgrove, the idyllic life he envisioned there-a family, a home, something different from the chaos of New York.

Izzy didn't know how to feel. Charles had sacrificed so much for her. He had rearranged his life, his schedule, to accommodate her. Two weeks in New York, two weeks in the UK for work-it was a rhythm they had worked out, one that kept them connected despite the physical distance. It wasn't ideal, but it worked.

At least, that's what she told herself.

He had given up so much for her, but had she truly given enough back?

She thought about how she felt about her family. She'd always maintained that she hated them-too much drama, too much chaos. And she was right. They were toxic, a swirling mess of games and manipulations that never ended. But even as she thought about moving away, a strange truth tugged at her: as much as she hated them, she didn't know how to live without them.

The constant toxicity, the noise, the arguments, the drama-it had always been part of her life. And even though she'd outgrown it in so many ways, there was a part of her that wasn't sure how she'd feel in a place where that noise didn't exist. Could she really leave it all behind?

She didn't know how to live without that backdrop. Maybe, deep down, she didn't know want to live with stability.

Her marriage was built on love. It was one of mutual respect, passion, and understanding, but it wasn't "stable" in the traditional sense. Stability, as most people knew it, didn't exist in their world. Charles being away half the time, her needing to be in New York for work-this was their normal. It worked for them, but it wasn't what most people would consider a stable, traditional marriage.

She was torn because Charles wanted stability, wanted that life where they could settle into a home, raise a family, create a new normal. And Izzy, despite her reluctance, had to admit that moving, though a big step, was something she could give him. It was the least she could do after everything he had done for her. But at the same time, she didn't know if she was ready to completely leave behind everything she knew.

She didn't have the answer yet. All she knew was that the decision wasn't as simple as packing up and moving. It wasn't just about changing locations; it was about changing who she was, and who she would be with Charles in a new, quieter life.

Charles continued showing her the properties, explaining the potential in each one, but Izzy wasn't really absorbing it. She offered the occasional "uh-uh" or "Yeah," her responses automatic, as if she were on autopilot. She couldn't bring herself to care about the high-end details, the design changes, the potential for a quiet, perfect life that Charles seemed to envision vat the moment.

He was trying, though. He was doing his best to paint a picture of their future in these places, and she could see it in his eyes-the hope, the expectation that this would be the turning point. But Isabelle couldn't give him what he wanted. Not right now. Not when her head was spinning with all the reasons she wasn't sure she could go along with it.

Charles, noticing her disengagement, couldn't help but feel her indifference. He wanted to ask her if she had changed her mind, if she was truly ready for this, but the question lingered in his throat.

What if she said "No"? What would he do? Would it break something in their marriage that they couldn't rebuild? He had wanted this move for so long, not just for the change in scenery, but for the chance to raise a family, to give his children a life in the countryside, with horses, space to grow, to breathe. But that was something he couldn't do in New York. He couldn't bear her family's presence in their lives any longer, the constant toxicity that seeped into everything. Every gene.

It wasn't just about escaping New York. It was about protecting the future they could have-if only she would take the step with him.

The silence between them grew thicker, and finally, Charles sighed, rubbing his temples. He took off his glasses, setting them gently on the table, his movements slow and deliberate as he stood up. Izzy watched him, confused but not sure how to ask what was going on. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already walking away, heading toward the bedroom.

She didn't understand why he was pulling away now. Was it because of her lack of response? Did she make him feel like he was unheard, or like he was asking too much? She stood up quickly, catching up to him before he could leave the room entirely. She reached for his arm, her fingers rubbing gently over his sleeve.

"Hey, c'mon," she said, her voice soft under a veil of weariness. "I'm just a little tired, okay? I'm not dismissing you or... whatever."

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then another to his lips. She knew he needed her to say something, anything to reassure him, but the words felt too heavy to come out. She just couldn't make him see that she was torn-torn between what he wanted and what she was afraid of losing.

Charles paused, nodding, though the frustration or something else still lingered in his eyes. He kissed her back, his lips brushing over hers briefly before pulling away. The sadness in his gaze was almost too much to bear, but he didn't say anything else. He didn't have the words, and she didn't have the right ones either.

"I'll join you in a few," Izzy called after him, her voice louder now, trying to break the distance between them. She dropped back onto the couch, her eyes finding the TV screen again, but it didn't matter. She wasn't really watching it.

Charles didn't turn around as he reached the bedroom door. He simply muttered, "Take your time," before closing it behind him.

--------------------

Izzy stepped into the venue just as the final touches were being made for the ball. The buzz of activity was all around her-people rushing to get things in place, workers adjusting decorations, and her team making sure every detail was perfect. Gabriel, ever efficient, was right there to meet her.

"Everything's coming along nicely," Gabriel said, glancing at the checklist in his hands. "We've got the chandeliers set up, the auction pieces ready for display, and the floral arrangements should be finished soon."

Izzy nodded, only half-listening. Her eyes scanned the room, checking off the mental checklist she had in her head. Just as she was about to respond, Connor walked in, his usual dramatic entrance.

"Bambi! Hey!" he called out, arms wide like he had just walked into a party.

Gabriel, sensing an opportunity to bow out, gave Izzy a quick look and made his exit, leaving her and Connor alone.

Hey, you're happy." Izzy smiled, her tone light as she teased him. "Did Dad give you a little cash or what?"

Connor let out a small laugh, but it wasn't his usual easygoing chuckle. It was more awkward. "Euh, nope. No, no, no. I'm just excited because now, I have somebody who is mean enough to scream at these minions." He turned around and yelled at the workers nearby. "Fucking useless!"

Izzy raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Take a deep breath, okay?" She shot him a half-smile, her amusement barely masked.

Connor smirked but didn't back down. He had his own way of handling things, and it involved plenty of yelling. But Izzy wasn't bothered by it. In fact, she found it kind of funny.

He looked at her, then paused. His eyes lingered on her hair. It was ginger and his face softened slightly. "Hmm. Wow, you changed your hair. Nice, very nice. It suits you."

Izzy gave him a playful high-five. "Thanks, it was for the photoshoot."

Connor gave her a once-over again, and that's when he made the connection. "Jojo Rabbit."

Izzy blinked, completely confused. "What?"

He gestured toward her head, mimicking the shape of her hair with his hands. "Jojo, the-"

She stared at him, still lost. "Babe, it's a movie about-" she paused, trying to catch the thread of his thought, "Hitler?"

Connor shook his head, waving off the suggestion. "Y'know, the redhead cartoon-"

Izzy's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

Connor, clearly getting frustrated with her confusion, made a gesture over his chest. "The one with the big boobs."

Izzy's eyes widened in realization, and she snapped her fingers. "Ohhhh, Jessica Rabbit."

Connor nodded eagerly, as if he had just won an argument. "Yeah, Jessica Rabbit. That's it. You loved her when you were younger."

"I'm still youn-" Before Izzy could finish, Gabriel returned, his presence interrupting their conversation. "Izzy," he called, "they need you to check the chandelier placements and the exhibition of the jewels for the auction."

Izzy sighed but shot a smile at Connor before she left. "Be right back, don't miss me too much," she said, blowing him a kiss as she walked away, her heels clicking against the floor.

Connor, still standing there with a grin, watched her go. "I'll try not to," he called after her, his voice full of mock disappointment.

Izzy walked through the venue, her eyes scanning the room with precision. Every inch had to be perfect, and she wasn't about to settle for anything less. The workers were scattered around, scrambling to get things in order.

She spotted a group of workers near the floral arrangements, their hands moving too slowly for her liking. She stopped in front of them. "This looks like shit," she said bluntly. "You need to redo it. Now." Without waiting for a response, she pointed to a few vases, her finger sharp. "Move them. Over there. Fix it, or I'll find someone who can."

They scrambled to adjust the flowers, and Izzy didn't miss a beat. She moved on, her eyes darting across the room, checking every detail. When she saw another team struggling with the placement of some auction pieces, she walked up and stopped in front of them.

"You," she said, pointing directly at one of the workers. "Get up. Fuck off." The worker didn't even hesitate, quickly stepping aside as she stepped in to fix the placement herself.

"Align these properly, or you're wasting my time," she added, adjusting the pieces with swift precision. She didn't need to say much more; they got the message.

Izzy's gaze swept the room again, her thoughts running a mile a minute. She spotted a group of workers moving tables around the back, their movements inefficient. "Hey," she called out, walking over to them. "What the hell are you doing? You need to rearrange these tables for the auction, now. Move faster."

As they started to comply, Izzy stepped back, briefly inspecting the work, before giving a quick nod of approval. "Better. Keep it up." Her tone was still sharp, but there was no meanness behind it. Just expectation. She turned her attention elsewhere as a few staff members approached her, nervously asking for her input on the chandeliers.

"Move them up. They're too low." she said.

She noticed a staff member struggling with a tablecloth and walked over. Without saying a word, she fixed it herself, smoothing the fabric out and ensuring it draped perfectly. "There. That's better," she said, her tone more approving now, but still direct.

As she continued checking the setup, she couldn't help but notice how some people were still moving too slowly, not getting things done at the pace she needed. That's when she spotted a worker near the back, carrying an oversized display piece on her own.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Izzy barked, pointing at her. "Why the fuck are you carrying that alone? Get help. You think this is a one-woman job?"

As she made her way back to the front of the venue, she noticed a group of workers near the entrance. "Move these chairs," she ordered. "They're in the wrong spot. Do you not have eyes?"

As the hours passed and the chaos of the setup finally seemed to subside, Izzy found herself searching for Connor. She wasn't sure what he was up to, but she had to find him before she needed to get ready for the event.

She walked through the venue, weaving past workers finishing last-minute tasks, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. She spotted him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, talking to one of the caterers.

"Hey," she called, making her way over to him. "Uh-I'm leaving. Gotta get ready."

Connor turned toward her, a slight smirk on his face. "Already? You're not gonna hang around for the shitshow?"

Izzy shrugged, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "Not my thing. You know where to find me when it's time to actually show up."

She leaned in to give him a quick hug, then pulled away. "Good luck with the 'minions.'"

Connor laughed, shaking his head. "Always a pleasure. Go make yourself look pretty, Bambi."

Izzy rolled her eyes, giving him one last glance before turning to leave. "Don't screw it up."