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Talking to people in real life felt impossible. No one knew what to say, and I didn’t have the energy to make them comfortable about it.

But Calla and Serena were just… there. Always. In my inbox. In late-night chats dissecting forensic failures and debating crime scene methodologies. Sending me silly memes about trace evidence when they knew I hadn’t left my apartment all day.

And our friendship was just easy.

Eerily so.

Lila: OH MY GOD I WAS IN A MEETING WITH AN ACTUAL HUMAN GIVE ME A SECOND.

Calla: So it was A Bad Thing™.

Serena: Spill.

Lila: …

Calla: That’s a guilty pause.

Serena: A deeply guilty pause.

Calla: A Bad Thing™ pause.

Lila: OKAY. But in my defense, it was a little necessary.

Calla: I’m vibrating with anticipation.

Serena: I’m vibrating with dread.

Lila: So you know how I told you I was going to convince Professor Grayson to help me look into the Mayfair case?

Calla: Oh, we know. We also said it was a terrible idea.

Serena: Specifically, we said, “Lila, maybe don’t harass the broody ex-lawyer who is very much not over the trial that ruined his career.”

Serena: Again.*

Calla: Verbatim.

Lila: Okay, but hear me out.

Serena: No.

Calla: Absolutely not.

Lila: I may have ambushed him in his office.

Calla: YOU DID WHAT.

Serena: You stormed his LAIR?

Calla: Wait, wait, wait. Be honest. How long did it take before he looked like he wanted to stab you in the neck with his fountain pen?

Lila: Three seconds. Maybe four.

Calla: That long?

Serena: He must have been having a good day.

Lila: …ANYWAY, I shared my thoughts with him. And he stared at me like I was a particularly annoying piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe that he didn’t feel much like scraping off.