Coming home
The office was quiet, except for the gentle rustling of paper as the guard struggled to find the last necessary form. Vi would almost have thought time had stopped if it weren't for the regular ticking of the clock behind her. She glanced around the cramped place, her body stiff, ready to defend itself if needed.
She tried to remain as stoic as possible, her face betraying none of the doubts she was having. This was the moment she couldn't fuck up. Not when she was finally close.
She glanced down at her clothes that she last worn almost seven months ago. It was strange, but she would actually prefer her anonymous prison uniform that didn't bring any memories back. Her jeans still had the same purple patch on them that Powder had sewn on, and her black boots were still scuffed.
Vi nervously tugged at the sleeve of her sweatshirt and tried to scrape the dried stain off with her finger. She tried to remember how she'd gotten it. She remembered the day of her arrest by heart, but this particular memory eluded her. Had it happened at breakfast that morning? Or maybe after work at the bar?
There was also a pretty strong chance that the stain had been created while two cops held her pinned to the ground while Powder cried hysterically for help. But she wasn't going to accept that possibility.
The officer slid another file in front of her and tapped at the blank box for her to fill in with her name.
Vi raised an eyebrow and took the time to read the form. She may have been impatient, but she certainly wasn't stupid. And she wasn't about to sign something she hadn't read before. The guard grunted in annoyance, but Vi ignored him, her attention solely on the papers in front of her.
Okay, it looked like he wasn't trying to trick her. That is, if she understood everything correctly.
She reached for a pen on her desk and signed her name. The pencil was still on the paper when the man snatched the file from her and impatiently tossed it into a box marked with the name Violet Floriánová, as if every second lost irritated him beyond belief.
"Get up," he beckoned to her, and Vi rose from her chair. The guard unlocked her handcuffs and nodded toward the door. Vi quickly picked up a box filled with all the letters she had received during her imprisonment, which had been placed on the table until then. She couldn't imagine leaving without them. With an incredulous look, she walked passed the guard and after he locked the office door wordlessly, they made their way to the main entrance.
It was really happening. Vi was going home.
Still she felt distrust with every step she made, with every breath of the stale air of the prison, depressing in all its elements. She didn’t trust the guard walking beside her and his sneaky glances her way that she couldn’t ignore because they were constant. She didn’t trust her new hair, the light brown color looking so unnatural to her as ironic as it sounded. She didn’t trust that she would be really getting home today. She didn’t trust anything.
She wished she could just make her mind go blank. Could be easier.
“You seem quiet today, 516,” the guard’s snarky comment caught her attention, and she glanced his way.
This one was an asshole. He was present at some of her interrogations that she was forced to undergo while already in prison, and he more than willingly offered to “make her talk”. But he didn’t succeed then, and he certainly wouldn’t make her talk today.
She ignored his comment and just continued walking towards the exit, his presence never leaving her side.
“Ah, I get it. You think silent treatment is gonna make you a free woman faster.” Vi looked up at those words and allowed herself one little scoff of annoyance.
That’s all he was getting from her today.
Freedom was a relative concept in Vi's world and as much as she loved to play with words she fucking hated how many different meanings this one stupid word could have.
For example, as a child, she considered it freedom when Vander allowed her to go to the movies with her classmates from school.
When she got a little older, she felt freedom at illegally organized concerts where wild and enticing music was played, people danced, and no one paid attention to anything that signified otherness.
The older she got, the more she realized that maybe freedom wasn't for people like her or people like her family. That the world was bound by absurd rules, and she had been born into a place where the very idea of freedom had long ceased to exist. And if she wanted to live, at least somehow freely, she would have to come up with her own rules.
All these noble notions she had of freedom were cut short the moment she entered prison herself. If she had lived in a non-freedom before, she didn't know what to call this. The strict schedule, the knowledge that no one could be trusted at all, and even the restrictions on how often she was allowed to send letters home.
Being free. That's what it was called when someone was out of prison, right? Ironically, she was looking forward to it. To “being free” again in a reality that didn't accept freedom.
What a fucking comedy.
They finally made it to the end of the hallway and the guard stopped to search through the pile of papers lying on the desk near the door.
"Okay, I need you to sign this."
"What?" Vi blinked in confusion as she realized she was lost in her own thoughts again and glanced at the guard.
The man frowned at her, irritated again and flicked a pen in her direction. "If you want to leave today, sign below."
That's all he had to say. Vi grabbed a pen and signed the end of the page in her messy handwriting. With a strange unease, she placed the paper and pen on the table in front of the guard and watched, chest tight, as he reread the entire document.
Something's bound to go wrong now. They'll tell her they made a clerical error or start babbling about bad and inappropriate behaviour and lock her up again for the next three months.
But to her surprise, the man filed the document in a folder, grabbed a bunch of keys, and headed for the door. The seconds he spent searching for the right key and then fumbling with the lock were more like hours to Vi, but then-. Then he finally unlocked it.
He opened the door wide and smiled slyly, nodding towards the open door. Vi clutched a box stuffed with letters to her chest as if getting ready to fight him in case he decided to pluck the box out of her arms. She walked past the man and allowed herself only a frown in his direction before stepping out.
"Go to the gate. The gatekeeper should be informed that you will be passing through."
Vi didn't react. The man's words couldn't have mattered less to her. The fact that she was actually standing outside somewhere other than the guarded courtyard meant that she had really made it. After seven fucking months in this shitty prison, she was finally out.
A short disbelieving laugh escaped her lips.
The landscape in front of her looked horribly depressing – with the flat fields in the distance and the grey sky, absent of the sun hidden behind the clouds, the forest in the distance damaged by bark beetles. But it was different, something new and free of the mundanity of the grey walls inside. And she would take it.
"See you next time," the mocking voice ripped her away from her thoughts and all of her excitement was suddenly gone.
She turned to face the guard for the last time, her face twisting into a hateful grimace. The guard's eyes sparkled, almost waiting for Vi to do something. For her to attack him or give him any other reason to leave her here.
Vi held eye contact with him for a few seconds before flipping him off with a scoff.
That was probably safer than words. And maybe the gesture said everything that she couldn't out loud.
And without saying another word, Vi headed out.
The old man opened the gate and as the driveway spread out before her, a wide smile grew on her face.
Even though it was April, the weather certainly did not suggest it. It was unpleasantly cold, which was mainly manifested by strong winds. Despite all this, Powder and Vander stood outside wrapped in their scarves. As soon as they noticed movement at the gate, they both stiffened and Vi couldn't help but laugh out loud at the sight of her family. Before she could do anything else, Powder was already hanging around her neck, squeezing her as tightly as possible.
Behind her, she heard the man at the gate mutter something, and a moment later, she overheard the creak that finally proved to Vi that this chapter was finally closed. The world beyond that gate was nothing she wanted to think about. Especially not when she was finally holding Powder.
Vi closed her eyes and just let herself feel her sister's presence in her arms for a moment. The box she held in one hand pressed into her ribs, but there was no way she was going to break the embrace. "Hey, Pow-Pow," she whispered and pulled away after a moment. She carefully examined Powder’s face, taking in every little detail.
Powder’s eyes widened when she got the chance to examine her sister’s face. “You’re fucking kidding me. You got a face tattoo? When?!”
“That’s the first thing you’re gonna say? Not ‘hello’? Or ‘how are you’?” Vi chuckled and she smoothed Powder’s untamed hair and tucked one strand behind her ear.
“Well, I don’t think that simple ‘hello’ could really capture the shock of seeing you with your stupid name tattooed right under your eye,” Powder shook her head in disbelief. “I visited you last month. Did you get it yesterday or what? Is it even safe? Not to spoil the fun of it and all, but what if you get infection and die?”
Vi laughed. "I’m definitely not planning the dying part,” she pulled Powder into another hug.
“Who got a face tattoo?” came a concerned voice and Vi looked up.
"Vander," she whispered, and the burly man pushed himself away from the car, meeting his daughter halfway in a bear hug.
Vi always felt safest in his arms. Suddenly, nothing could or would reach her. The hideous reality of the world all around her suddenly played no part here, because the little child in her still believed that Vander could drive all evil away. Even though this moment was clear proof that even he couldn't protect her from everything.
"Hi, kiddo," he greeted in a melodious, deep voice, and Vi pulled back to look her father in the face. She laughed. "You look like it’s been seven years, not seven months."
Vander burst out laughing. "So that's how it's going to be now, huh? Suddenly you're being cheeky on top of it?"
Vi joined in the laughter. "Yeah, because up until now I've always treated everyone with respect and humility." She looked around. "Where did you leave Isha?"
Powder grinned. "Sevika's babysitting her."
Vi frowned. "Does she even know what a child is?"
"You'd probably be surprised how well they get along," Vander pointed out, and Vi frowned in surprise at the thought of Sevika bonding with the small girl.
In the silence that followed she noticed the look Vander gave her. His eyes searched her face carefully, examining the newly acquired scars and gently torn lip. Vi suddenly felt terribly small under his scrutiny, and for some reason her throat tightened. She expected a flurry of questions. What happened to you? Are you all right? Did someone hurt you? She didn't want to talk about it. She might have been out for five minutes at most, but even that was enough to keep her mind trying to bury her entire stay deep beneath the surface.
Instead, Vander finally shifted his gaze to the car and opened the front door. He didn't ask any questions, but Vi sensed that the conversation on the subject wasn't so easily dismissed. He nodded toward the open door. "Then hop in. We can’t have you die of frostbite of all things," he put on a playful tone, but Vi couldn't escape the concern in his voice. So she just nodded and climbed into the car.
There was still a raw disbelief. It was hard to accept that she was really going home.
It felt easy, too easy. It didn’t add to her time in prison, to the difficulty of the court trial. As if this release was only some game to them – just to give her hope and destroy it the moment later. She couldn’t shake that feeling off.
Powder crawled into the back seat and got into a fierce discussion with Vander about what music to play for the two-hour drive ahead of them.
The car started up and they finally took off. Vi allowed herself one last look at the building complex that had been her home for the last few months and panic gripped her body again.
See you next time, the guard’s words echoed in her head.
No. She refused to let them destroy her. She refused to let them determine any of her next steps.
This is the last time I'm here, she promised herself, turning her head to the road stretching out before them.
She couldn't wait for them to get back to Prague.
The car ride seemed much shorter than when they had escorted her here, all those months ago. Vi wasn’t sure if it was because of the never stopping conversation or just the mere presence of her family that made the ride feel shorter, but it was nice either way.
Powder asked a lot of questions. Vi responded to some and ignored the others. She laughed at Powder’s stories even when she didn't find them particularly funny, teased Vander and fought the urge to sleep.
It was too much at once. She almost felt fifteen again and with a badly broken wrist – waking up from the anaesthesia and not being able to control her own emotions.
When the car finally stopped with a jerk, it was a release for her. Vander and Powder had both gotten out but it took Vi a longer time. She clutched the box of letters in her arms. That was still her dearest treasure. The one she wouldn’t leave. Though her whole body was stiff with the forced rigidity, she quickly climbed out of the car.
For some reason, she was surprised that the street her apartment was on was the same as the last time she had seen it. The garbage can standing in front of the house was still spray painted on the left side, the trees planted on the sidewalk were still untrimmed, and there were still holes in the sidewalk. There was something comforting about it.
"Shall we?" Vander nodded at her, and when she nodded at him in acknowledgement, he pulled out a bunch of keys and after a moment opened the door to the apartment building.
"I used to come every week to water your plants. Two of them look like they could still manage, but I had to throw the cactus out, it looked terrible," Powder continued talking as they panted up the stairs. She seemed to be trying to get out as much information as possible about everything that had happened in Vi's absence, no matter how small and insignificant the details seemed.
Vi ignored her comments. Instead, with a strange feeling in her chest, she just wrapped Powder in another hug from behind. Powder let out a squeak of surprise, and Vi just let out a laugh.
"Come on, I think that's enough," came Vander's voice from the top of the stairs. Vi grinned and threw a smug look in her sister's direction before she beat her to the stairs and stood by the woodwork in the apartment. Vander tossed her the keys and Vi slid them into the lock with familiar stiffness.
She entered the room and was surprised at how tidy and neat everything was. "You mentioned in the letters that you cleaned up the apartment, right?" Using the word ‘apartment’ was probably a bit of an exaggeration in the context of this small studio apartment, but Vi had never minded the cramped nature of these spaces. On the contrary, it was one of the first places that really felt like home since she and Powder had lived with their parents.
Since Vander had adopted Isha, it was no longer even possible to fit Vi into his modest apartment. Vander was already forced to sleep on the living room couch, and Powder and Vi were crammed into a tiny bedroom, sleeping on one fold-out bed. At the time, it really came in handy, that her biological dad never got rid of his small apartment.
Vi set the box down and breathed in the stoic atmosphere of the apartment.
It felt weird. Everything was the same as when she was there the last time. The cupboard was filled with the same inexcusable number of mugs, an old rug with coffee stains, her jacket hanging on the hanger just as she left it there.
But it didn’t feel the same.
"After you were arrested, we searched the whole place. The cleaning was more of an accompaniment to the search," Vander echoed once they were in a safe space behind closed doors. Vi turned around in surprise.
“What?” she rasped.
She knew what he was trying to say. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to understand.
"We found one bug attached to a lamp."
Vi just stared at her adoptive father for a moment, speechless and her mouth gaping open.
"We went through everything again this morning - you could never be sure if they didn't get here at some unguarded moment. But hopefully it should be all clean."
"We've really crawled every nook and cranny, Vi," Powder joined in, trying to reassure her sister of her safety. "I doubt there's anything left here."
Of course she was bugged. She didn't even know why it was such a surprise to her.
It wasn't that the wiretapping or being bugged by the secret police was unheard of. When she still lived with Vander, she knew she had to be careful not to talk too openly about anything, because there was a good chance their conversation wasn't private.
But for some reason, she had never thought that the StB would care about her.
Why was she so stupid?
"Fucking assholes," she hissed through gritted teeth. "This is my fucking apartment. You mean to tell me they've been listening to all my conversations for months?" She felt like screaming, punching someone, setting the State Security building and everyone in it on fire.
She felt dirty. The idea that someone heard everything. The visits from friends, all the times she'd brought some girl over, her frustrated crying, and all the fucking conversations about the state of this fucking country.
She could feel the tremble in her legs. That didn’t use to happen before, did it? She suddenly couldn’t remember. Maybe it always did.
As if Vander knew exactly what she was thinking, he placed his palm on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her a little.
Vi looked up from the fierce gaze she'd had on the lamp a moment ago and looked her father in the eye.
"I know you're upset; you can't imagine my anger. But that doesn't mean you can be reckless now. Not again, and not right now."
Vi almost didn’t feel present. Her mind in a whirl of emotions, unable to stop, to decide what mattered, what was the right decision and what was even happening.
Her breath was getting shallow, nothing felt real. Why couldn’t she feel it? She needed to feel the stability of this world, to know that she was really here. Here, with her family, in her own home.
But it felt like a cruel illusion, something her mind came up with to ease her suffering. She clenched her fists, and before her mind even realized what she was doing, she was already standing at the window, opening it wide.
A fresh air hit her face, the sun rays hitting on her skin after the months when feeling the sun’s warmth was considered a privilege.
This was all too much. She wanted to scream and fight and let her rage get the better of her like she always did, like she was always allowed to. But it felt so performative. Like a shadow of what was she supposed to act like, what she was like, what everyone thought she should act like. The stubborn, angry, short-tempered woman everyone always reminded her she was.
Vander might have assumed she would act based on her anger but honestly, she wasn’t sure if she had it in her. Maybe they sucked all the courage out of her.
Powder was staring at her. Vander too. And they looked worried and so unsure and-
Oh, she was weak. They thought she was weak.
“Vi?” Powder asked, but Vi didn’t want to respond, didn’t want to do this.
Vi’s lungs suddenly worked again, she took one breath after another.
She couldn’t fuck this up. She couldn’t be angry.
Vi closed her eyes and breathed out.
This didn’t feel right. But there was nothing she could do about it.
She sucked in another breath as in to get herself together. She hoped it would work.
“Could you leave me alone?” her voice hoarse, eyes still closed.
“Vi-,” Vander’s voice appeared somewhere behind her, but she didn’t turn to him.
“Please. I mean it.”
"Come on, Powder. We'll let Vi calm down," he nodded to his younger daughter, but Powder shook her head. "You go on your own and pick up Isha. I’ll see you tonight."
Vander raised his eyebrows in surprise but made no objection.
"Later, then," he said at the door, his last worried expression fixed on Vi. She just nodded briefly, and a moment later, the door closed behind him with a click.
Silence fell between the sisters. And Vi felt so overwhelmed by the realization that she no longer belonged here – she felt out of place in her own home.
Powder, however, seemed to have no such problem. She grabbed the mirror that hung in the bathroom and set it on the nightstand. Then she pulled the box of hair dye out of the cupboard and immediately turned to Vi. "Sit," she ordered her.
Vi raised one eyebrow. She didn’t argue with her nor did she insist that Pow should leave her alone. She would never win that fight
So she did what her sister told her without a word of protest
In a familiar movement, she sat on the ground in front of the mirror with her back to the chair and Powder settled in behind her.
It was a little unnerving to see her face in natural light up this close. All the minor injuries and the distinctly disfigured face. For the past few months, she was used to seeing her face only under aggressively white-lit light bulbs and in dirty mirrors.
Most of all, she was sorry for the plain brown hair that now framed her face. When she had been admitted to prison, the guards had immediately shaved her bright pink hair off without any napkins. It may have been stupid, but she cried because of it that evening.
Powder put disposable gloves on her hands and after shaking out the dye, she began methodically dyeing each strand of Vi's hair.
They wouldn’t talk about what just happened. Powder was one of the few people who knew when to let things go and how to approach Vi when shit like this happened. They could just exist without speaking about it – a companionable silence that just worked.
"Where did you get it?" Vi rasped and her eyes flickered to her reflection, watching Powder’s work. "Benzo told me last time that it was the last tube he could get for me."
The pink colour was not something that could be found in regular and even in not-so-regular drugstores. Whether it was because of the state's reluctance to encourage anything remotely resembling deviancy and the influence of Western culture, or because of a controlled economy that often meant there was a shortage of almost anything that came to mind.
Powder snorted. "He may have said that, but after I told him you'd been shaved, he managed to get it. From Austria if I remember correctly," she grabbed more strands and Vi's skull was clouded by the cold liquid. "Everyone knows how important your hair is to you. Plus," there was a slight amusement in Powder's voice at the words, "Plus, I threatened to stop helping him fix the appliances people bring in if he didn't get me the dye."
Vi looked in the mirror and made eye contact with the younger girl. "Thank you."
That's all she could do. Powder was one of the few who truly understood what the gesture meant to her without Vi having to make a long thank you speech.
Truth be told, the dyed hair was only causing her trouble. When there were random checks on the streets, she was always among those stopped by the cops, and even getting a job wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do because of it. But despite all the complications, a small part of her was secretly glad to be able to show her disapproval in at least that way. And after the few years she had worn the color on her head, pink had become such an important part of her very identity that Vi didn't even feel like herself without it. And Powder understood all of that more than anyone. Her sister, who until now had understood all of Vi’s feelings like no one else. Because until now they shared all of their traumas.
Vi snorted. Better than matching bracelets.
Powder just nodded, and after a moment, she scoffed again. "Plus, I need to humanize you a bit if you want to look even remotely presentable for tonight."
Vi turned around in confusion. "What's tonight?"
Powder smiled ruefully. "Maybe a little welcome home gathering at Jericho's," she said with an edge of nonchalance, but her eyes sparkled.
"You're kidding." Vi grinned, finally feeling something other than anger or resentment since her return.
"I'd hold back a little on the enthusiasm. It looks like everyone is planning on bringing some guests, so you'll be lucky if you know at least half the people there," Powder went back to dying. "But it's for you, Vi. They'll all be there for you."
Vi squeezed her sister's calf, touching her back, in thanks. "Even if it was just you, it would have been enough."
This could maybe fill all that emptiness inside her. Maybe all the people she would be reconciled with could remind her that she truly came back. That she got out.
Vi leaned fully against her sister's legs, and as Powder continued to dye each strand, Vi finally felt like maybe there was a chance of getting closer to home.
The silence and the calm atmosphere of the frosty evening was broken only by the sound of heels clicking on the cobblestones, the speed changing from a fast walk into a run after a while.
Caitlyn was late.
She silently cursed herself for deciding to wear the most impractical shoes she probably owned. She had to keep from falling with every other lurching step she took. A few people threw curious glances in her direction as they watched the tall woman run down the steep street, and Caitlyn only gave all onlookers a scowl in return.
As if it wasn't enough that she had to spend her Friday evenings regularly attending a compulsory three-hour lecture, which seemed to get longer and longer every week, but on top of that, it seemed the professor was unable to finish class on time.
And it didn't help that the professor had been trying to ingratiate himself with her ever since he'd conflated her last name with her mother's.
And now, because of that old idiot, she was late the one night she really needed to be at home on time.
She checked the time on her watch and cursed softly when she realised it was already ten minutes past the time she was supposed to meet Jayce. Which meant she would be calling him late and wriggling out of plans after she should have been there long ago.
It really couldn't have been better timed.
Finally, she ran to the corner building and, after unlocking the door, hurled inside.
In those moments, she loved having a ground floor apartment. She put the key in the door and was surprised to find that the door was not locked, but only slammed shut.
It could mean two things.
Either someone decided to break in at 6:00 p.m. and was considerate enough to at least close the door, or-
"Jayce?" Caitlyn called out breathlessly as she slipped into the hallway, holding her breath in anticipation.
"In the kitchen!" came her best friend's voice, and Caitlyn just rolled her eyes.
"Did you know that people don't usually break into their friends' apartments without informing them first?" She called back while trying to stuff those infernal boots into the shoe closet. She grabbed her bag, the bottom of which was sagging under the weight of the thick volumes of books, and followed Jayce's voice. "And just to remind you, I gave you that key in case of an emergency."
Jayce sat sprawled at Caitlyn's dining room table. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and although he was supposed to give the impression of casualness, Caitlyn knew her friend well enough to know that he had chosen everything carefully.
"There is an emergency," he noted. "I had a strong suspicion that my best friend was going to try to wriggle out of the plans she had agreed to a week ago," he leaned back in his chair and watched her expectantly. "So, of course, I had to come early to make sure my hunch wasn't based in the slightest bit on the truth."
Caitlyn sighed. "I hate it when you think you know what I'm going to say. But-"
"Cait, forget it. You promised me."
"Sorry, I'm not going anywhere."
Jayce made a few vague noises of protest, but it didn't faze Caitlyn in the slightest.
"I had a long day today, and I also had this absolutely horrible endless lecture that made me think about where I really want to spend my time. And I'm sorry, but it’s really not some party with Viktor’s friends."
Jayce shook his head. "You can't let me go in there alone."
"But you won't be alone! Have you forgotten that you're going there for Viktor?"
Jayce rolled his eyes as if she'd caught him doing something. "I'm not going in there for him."
Caitlyn turned with a laugh and grinned towards her friend. "Right. I didn't know you were usually interested in parties thrown by underground communities that border on the legal, but I guess there's a first time for everything."
Jayce just rolled his eyes. "He just asked me if I'd be interested in going to a reunion that's being held for the return of one of his childhood friends from prison. It's nothing formal, okay? And he said I could bring anyone," he stood up and leaned against the kitchen counter. They just looked at each other in silence for a moment, and Caitlyn could tell that Jayce hadn't missed the true meaning of her sudden change of heart.
"If you approach everything like that, you're not going to get anywhere," now it was Jayce's turn to let the bitterness in his voice come through. "I can promise you that these people don't care who your parents are or what background you come from. Viktor never cared. At least not with me."
Caitlyn didn't answer, just shot Jayce a questioning look.
"You know very well that it's completely different for me. No one can even blame your mum for joining the party. She just wanted a better future for you. But I can't imagine anyone being okay with what my mother-," she stammered and then groaned.
She didn’t want to think about her mother right now.
It was stupid. Especially when Jayce was more familiar than anyone with exactly who her parents were. But shame was something that never quite let her breathe freely.
Jayce snorted and threw a sweater at Caitlyn, which she'd taken off a moment ago.
"Hey!" She retorted, looking sharply in his direction.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get off your ass. If you do have some serious reason that physically prevents you from going there with me, fine. But I refuse to listen to you blame yourself for something you're not even a part of and wallow in self-pity. So get dressed right now."
Caitlyn tentatively put her clothes back on, but every second she had to internally talk herself out of immediately ripping everything off and just staying home. She held out her hand towards Jayce to help her stand, not escaping his small triumphant smile.
"I'm not really sure how you managed to convince me," she muttered, and another smug smile appeared on Jayce's lips.
"That would be my charm and natural authority," Caitlyn snorted. Still, a small smile emerged on her lips, and she playfully swatted Jayce in the back of the head. As he began to mutter something in her direction, Caitlyn just raised an eyebrow. "That's payback in advance. For all the seconds in there, I'm going to hate."