“How are you feeling?” Masgard asked, sitting on the side of the bed as Freyr swallowed the pill and finished the glass of water. The cocktail of painkillers, stimulants and electrolytes suppressed her crushing headache and allowed Freyr to at least open her eyes. She moved the cover from over her head. Masgard was dressed in a new suit, light grey this time. He looked annoyingly put together, all things considered. “Rough. I’ll be ready in the minute. What happened last night?” Masgard chuckled, looking out of a window and scratching his nose. “Well, umm, Vreta'Sori and 595 got together.”

“What?!”

“Shhh, they’ll hear you! I just wanted to warn you in case they’re still on the couch.”

In the open plan living space down the hall, 595 woke up to look straight in Vreta’s eyes. She looked around and realised where they were. “Well, good morning.” She murmured, quickly levering herself up so she could look over the back of the couch. The room was massive, but that didn’t stop the sounds and smells of Kalax preparing breakfast wafting over from the kitchen island. He didn’t seem to notice her, so she dropped back down.

595 quickly slid off the couch and found her underwear in a pile. While hopping into her sturdy black knickers and bra, she spooled back through her black box recordings to fill in some of the blanks. Admittedly there weren’t many; she’d been filtering some of the effects so she was still somewhat able to discharge her duties. She bit her lip at the memory of hoisting that innocent in the club. Oops. Kinda invigorating though. Being the most deadly woman in any room was a key benefit of the role, she thought.

595 looked at Vreta. “Don’t get any ideas, big guy.”