Yeah. I understand better than anyone. That's how I know a downgrade when I see one.

That right? And Woden being a predatory racist super villain murderer? How much does that matter?

He's a murderer! He did a buncha fuckin murders!! And now you're in his club? Think about this.

Laura.

[ JESUS FUCK IS THIS HOW IGARASHI FEELS ALL THE TIME???? ]

And it does matter. Of course it fucking matters! You're not a Destroyer, Cassandra!

So what? Now you get to choose.

[ "I was born for it." That gets filed away for a discussion topic once this garbage has blown over.

Still on the sofa, Laura doesn't flinch or pull back. Her eyes flick to the side briefly- contemplating deception- and she lets out a slow breath. This isn't working. ]

Do you like hurting people? Enjoy it? Because that's what's going to happen. There's going to be more blood to live with.

[ "And I won't let that happen to you," she doesn't say out loud. She doesn't need to. no matter how she's trying to keep a cool facade, the force of her caring is obvious in the tilt of her head, the way she leans slightly into the implicit threat of the fire. Doesn't matter. They both know the truth is she'd rather cut out her own tongue than watch her friend take on any more of that weight. ]

Yer already something better than a god, Cass. You're a hero. Woden doesn't deserve you.

[ She's quiet for a long time. This sucks. This sucks and she should have never give Woden a chance and they should have had his head on a shelf months ago and now innocent people are going to get hurt, and innocent Imports will gain twelve more targets on their backs.

Her frustration and worry and helplessness takes on another shade of self-loathing as she decides to take a page from Ananke's book. ]

Fine.

[ Deep breath in, deep breath out. She sits back on the couch and crosses her arms. ]

Fine. Whatever. I can't stop you . . . But I want to hear you first. Prove to me this is really worth it, and I'll hype you myself.

[ Her own look steels. She leans back, but not recoiling. She spreads her arms across the back of the couch, pulls on just a bit of power to Perform- hoping the subtle glamour will be enough. ]

Alright, you got me. I could stop you. But I still want to hear your song.

[ It is a trick . . . well, it was a trick. Should be a trick?

But all sad attempts at subterfuge are knocked out of her head once she hears Shiva's song. And Jesus can she hear it. The message is strangely garbled (it doesn't mean anything, it never meant anything), but that doesn't matter. The power of the performance turns her blood to ice all the same. For all that he was a monster (and he was, absolutely, a monster) Woden sure was a hell of a producer, and Cassandra was an even better performer.

But there's something about it that gnaws at her gut, tightens her throat, wrecks the high. Something so terribly false about it all. Cassandra shouldn't be singing someone else's song. She shouldn't be following someone else's choreography. Not when she'd put so much blood and faith and talent into her own act. If Laura had Igarashi's way with criticism maybe she could have pointed out that while Cassandra's Batman was a cover of Bruce's original, she chose the material herself and now she arranged it too. Maybe she could have broken the spell by pointing out that this act was over-produced, shallow. A lie not to be engaged with.

Too fucking bad Laura's not a critic, even now. Still-hopelessly-naive Laura Wilson is defenseless against this, and she has to struggle for any scrap of lucidity she can grasp. What had she meant to be doing? Why did she let Cassandra start singing? There was a plan, wasn't there?

She can't think. She can't breathe. All she wants is for Cassandra to stop this. Laura reaches out towards her and moves to stand, all pretense of power and posturing abandoned, and instead her body betrays the fear and pity that Shiva's song is wringing from her. ]

[ Wow, good thing there's a couch here because she is promptly eating shit. ]