The plumber's van smelled like defeat, old french fries, and the faint, lingering aroma of Chloe's betrayed logic.
She drove with a stiff, furious precision, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.
She hadn't said a word since the Great Pizza vs. Paste War of twenty minutes ago.
The silence was so thick you could have used it for ballistic gelatin.
Jax, laid up in the back, finally broke it.
"So," he said, his voice cheerful and utterly oblivious to the storm clouds gathering in Chloe's eyes.
"This is fun."
"A little road trip for the Misfit Toys."
Jinx, riding shotgun, just snorted.
"Yeah, a fun road trip to our new luxury accommodations at the Grand Ruin Hotel."
Michael, wedged in the back, just stared out the grimy window.
They were deep in the forgotten industrial guts of the Bronx.
The buildings here weren't just abandoned.
They were skeletons.
"We're here," Chloe announced, her voice a flat, cold line of pure, professional annoyance.
