The Final Nap

The diner on Columbus Avenue was bright, loud, and smelled of grease. It was perfect.

Chloe and Wei sat in a booth at 4:00 AM. Chloe was wearing a "San Francisco Tourist" sweatshirt Wei had stolen from a gift shop line, and Wei was wearing a suit that was ruined by bleach and soot.

"The police raided the building," Wei said, dipping a fry into a milkshake. "Ghost Face is scattered. Uncle Zhang thinks you pulled the alarm to summon state authorities as a distraction. He calls it the 'Summoning the Heavens' maneuver."

Chloe rested her head on the table. "I just wanted the noise to stop."

"I know," Wei said softly.

He reached across the table and took her hand. His grip was warm, solid.

"You aren't The Widow," Wei said.

"Nope."

"You're just... lazy."

"Energy efficient," Chloe corrected.

"I can get you a passport," Wei said. "New identity. Somewhere quiet. No stairs."

Chloe thought about it. Moving. Packing. Learning a new language. Finding a new takeout place.

"Sounds exhausting," she mumbled.

She looked at Wei. He was dangerous. He was paranoid. He broke down doors and shot people. But he also brought her roast duck, carried her when she didn't want to walk, and looked at her like she was the only person in the world who made sense.

"You keep me safe," Chloe said, closing her eyes. "I'll handle the 'strategy'. Which mostly involves telling you to chill out."

Wei squeezed her hand. A smile broke across his stoic face. "Deal."

"Good," Chloe yawned. "Now, carry me to the cab. I'm done walking for the year."

Wei stood up, slid his arms under her, and lifted her up. She buried her face in his ruined jacket, already asleep before they hit the pavement, safe in the arms of the most dangerous—and hardest working—man in the city.