After the lunch hour rush, Shade walked over to Anne.
Anne sat there, staring at her empty glass. She shook her head when Shade went to pour another drink.
“Just looking at it,” she said.
“You’re upset,” Shade said.
“Thinking about Galactic Man.”
“Yeah?” Shade asked.
Anne thought about her childhood, how Galactic Man had seemed so strong, so honorable. She thought about her mom. She missed her mom.
“You want to talk about it?” Shade asked.
“Not really,” Anne said.
She’d been to Shade’s bar a lot, recently. But Shade didn’t mind. In all honesty, Shade could get lonely sometimes. It was especially odd working here, since she’d hidden both David and Ricky’s corpses under the floor of this building.
Having Anne around wasn’t so bad. Still, Shade figured she had to look out for Anne sinking into a depression. All those qualities could be distilled to one central problem, Shade figured: Anne lacking a purpose. She needn’t have worried.
Anne sat there, looking at the empty glass, making a promise to herself.
I’m going to hurt Galactic Man, she thought. Then I’m going to kill him.