Ava.
Chloe and Ava are my work besties and, if I’m honest, probably my two best friends in and out of work. Of course they want to see me suffer. That’s what we do best. Moral support through teasing.
“Oh my God,” Chloe says.
I close my eyes. “Don’t.”
“The beard,” Ava says.
“I said don’t.”
“You look so young.”
“I am young.”
“You look like you’re about to ask permission to go on a school trip,” Chloe says.
“I’mhanging up.”
“No, don’t. Turn your face to the light.”
“I’m not giving you angles.”
Ava’s eyes narrow with the focused kindness of someone about to be deeply unkind. “It’s actually very sweet.”
“Sweet is not better.”
“It is from this side of the screen.”
Chloe grins. “Does the Watch Manager like it?”
“Pippa? Why would that be relevant?”
“Oh, interesting.”
“No!”
“That no had panic in it.”
“It had dehydration in it.”
Ava leans closer. “How’s the station?”
“Hostile to facial hair. Casual about suffering. Surprisingly organised in places. Less organised in others, but I’m not allowed to mention that because I’m growing as a person.”
Chloe laughs. “And Pippa?”
I look towards the window without meaning to.
Through the glass, I catch a glimpse of Pippa inside, jacket off, sleeves pushed up, dark hair messier than when she arrived. She is talking to Mish while opening a packet of something, completely at ease in the middle of the noise and movement.
Not soft, exactly.
Just where she belongs.
My stomach does something unhelpful.
“That bad?” Ava asks.
