The tie was choking me.
I stared at the mirror. The boy staring back didn't look like Extra C. He looked like a rich asshole. A white dress shirt, top button undone just enough to suggest I didn't care, black trousers that cost more than my weekly food budget, and a blazer I had thrifted and painstakingly tailored to fit my frame.
I pulled my hair back. A neat ponytail this time. No messy bangs covering my eyes. If I was going into the lion's den, I needed to look like I owned the zoo.
"Abel?"
I froze. A knock on the door frame.
Anna stood there. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and holding a spatula. The smell of frying garlic wafted in from the kitchen. It was domestic. It was warm. It was everything I was about to walk away from for the night.
"You're… going out?" she asked. Her eyes scanned the outfit. They lingered on the watch—a fake Rolex I'd bought off a guy in Genge.
