#esp since i wasn't sure if i would expand this beyond a one shot

[sabraeal]

Hypewired Unsolved Drinking Game, Rule #2: Shirayuki Despairs Over Obi’s Life Choices

Rule #1

Written for @ruleofexception on the occasion of her BIRTH. I thought this would be more ghost hunting and less metrics, but I should have known I couldn’t resist a premise-building chapter.

[Shirayuki] Have you ever heard of the Gardner Museum Heist?

[Obi] Oohhh.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* What was that?

[Obi] Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just... I love heists.

[Shirayuki] You love heists? *laughs* No, I take it back, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

[Obi] *laughs* Come on, who doesn’t love a good heist?

[Shirayuki] This one *is* known as the biggest art heist of its kind.

[Obi] Oh ho ho ho. You’re saying all the right things to me.

The thing about haunted houses-- the real kind, not the ones that hire teenagers to wear stage make up and hold fake chainsaws-- is that they’re hard to book.

“Oh, in my hometown, they hired ex-convicts,” Obi says in the same casual way he says anything vaguely terrifying about his childhood, “and they gave them real, working chainsaws.”

Her jaw drops, face still plastered to her phone’s screen. Soft jazz worms into her ear. “That can’t be true. That has to be a-- a rumor or something.”

“Nah, nah, the farm had a work program with the local prison. I think sometimes they did seasonal work too?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. But it definitely made the hayride more popular. Gave it a real element of danger, you know?”

Shirayuki stares. “And they gave them real chainsaws?”

“Well, they only revved them a little.” He twitches his shoulder, as much of a shrug as he ever gives. “One time a guy hopped on the cart and chopped the bale next to me, but I mean, I probably deserved that.”

She might be sitting down, but oh, she could really do to sit down again. Harder. Mentally. Emotionally. “And you’re sure these were ex-convicts?”

“Yeah, probably.” Not an endorsement ringing with confidence. “I mean, I’m sure they were in for non-violent crimes, at least.”

There are two wolves inside of her, and one of them is pleased to hear about a local business working to place disadvantaged community members, and the other-- well, the other thinks that maybe everyone should be a little more solid on the whole non-violent convictions than they are.

Before she has the chance to suggest it, the phone clicks, and a pleasant female voice says, “Hill House, Donna speaking, how may I help you?”

“Oh, hi, yes,” she fumbles, “I’m Shirayuki calling from Hypewire. We would like to talk about booking your location.”

“Hypewire?” Donna pauses, the good long kind that means she’s probably from a generation that prefers to read its news on paper, and not from a website that has an option to react with emojis. “Oh, did you want to do an article on the house?”

“Ah, something like that.” Obi arches a brow, lips twitching as he crams another Funyon between them. He’s far too distracting to have around while she needs to have thinky thoughts, especially if he’s going to make faces at her. “I’m the producer of Hyperwire Unsolved, and we were wondering if we could possibly do a, ah--” she coughs-- “an investigation? Of the house? For the show?”

“Oh, Hypewire Unsolved!” The woman laughs. “My nephew loves you guys. But don’t you do true crime?”

[Sender]: sales@winchesterhouse.com [Recipients]: s.lyon@hypewire.com [Subject]: Re: Episode Filming

Thank you for your interest in our venue for an episode. Some of our interns are big fans of your show! However, we have to admit some confusion, as we were under the impression you were a true crime show…

“How’d they get that impression?” Higata grunts, hunching further over his keyboard. His screen in the only light in the editing bay, castling a ghastly glow over his face. “The art department just sent me six different aliens to pick from for the Roswell episode, and now we’re Serial? Come on.”

Shirayuki sighs. “I know. But it seems our more popular episodes are the ones about collar bombers and serial murderers. At least by the metrics”

Higata might only be twenty-six, but he’d be right at home at the VA buffet with the way he grumbles. “You know His Highness over there was talking to me about making true crime and supernatural separate seasons. Something about...keeping views and organizational groups or something.”

“Huh.” She sits back, nibbling on her lip. “It would certainly give me more of a focus each season. What do you think?”

“I guess it’s fine. Two editing credits for my resume for one show’s work is a good deal.” He overlays a shadowy police sketch into the video, shoulders rounded and tense. “What do I know? I just sit in the dark and pick which ghostly visage I want to layer over your audio.”

She leans in with her sunniest smile, squeezing his arm right above the elbow. “And you’re so good at it!”

“I am.” He’s too much of a professional to look away from his work, shifting the same image three pixels over and then three pixels back, but his bicep relaxes beneath her grip. “I am a top tier spooky face picker. All the commenters say so.”

She blinks. “Oh? They do?”

Higata twists in his seat, gaze somehow even more incredulous in the lack of light. “No, Shirayuki, they don’t. But they should.” He gestures to the screen vaguely. “They mostly just talk about how much they want to fuck Obi.”

“OH.” There’s some information she really, really didn’t need. “That’s um, ah--”

“Your job, according to roughly half our fan base.” His mouth hooks into a grin she does not enjoy. “What do you say, Lyon? I think we could break the bank if you kissed him once on camera.”

“I-- I mean--” it’s a ridiculous request, clearly a joke, but her heart is pounding so loud in her ears she can’t hear her own thoughts-- “that’s not really w-what the show is about.”

Higata laughs. “That’s what you think.”

“What does who think?”

Shirayuki jumps straight out of her chair.

It’s not an exaggeration; there’s literal air between her butt and the seat, and when she lands again, the soft cushion makes the most obvious whoosh noise in existence, only worse, since it’s slow too. No obnoxious whoopee cushion womp, oh no, just an endless, air pump whoosssssshhhhhh that’s as blatant as a rattlesnake in the silence.

“Obi!” His lean shadow fills the doorway—wow, is he actually that tall?—and his head tilts, just enough so that his eyes shimmer gold. “I—nothing! We were, um, nothing?”

“We were talking about true crime,” Higata supplies, darting her a pitying look, “and how that’s what everyone thinks we are. Winchester House just emailed back.”

Obi grimaces, teeth flashing white in the dark. “Ah, great. Another one of those.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, deflating into a slouch. “I could talk about Big Foot until I’m blue in the face, but everyone thinks I have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

One narrow brow arches toward his hairline. “But you do have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“I just think animal mutilation is probably a sign things aren’t going right in your life and someone should have noticed.” She waves her hands, at a loss. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to explore a supposedly haunted house.”

His lips twitch, right at one corner. “For a skeptic, you’re really into the idea you could see a ghost.”

“Stories are part of the human experience,” she explains primly. “We use them to understand what feels inexplicable. And ghosts are part of how we compartmentalize death.”

“Or they are the remnants of people who died too soon.” Obi pushes himself off the jamb, sauntering over to where they sit. “Or whatever bad juju is left by human misery—hey, that’s a sweet mugshot. Who’s it supposed to be?”

Higata squints. “I keep thinking it might be Shiira? But the cheeks are all wrong.”

“Huh.” Obi leans between the two of them, nose hovering mere inches away from the screen. His arm presses into her shoulder, too warm. “Brecker.”

“Brecker?” Higata tilts his head. “Oh yeah, I see it now. He’s not gonna like that.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Good thing he doesn’t watch joyless tripe like Unsolved then.”

“Yeah.” Higata snickers, raising the opacity. “Good thing.”

Obi settles back on his heels, hand gripping the back of her chair. She dares a glance up, and there he is, watching her with one of those looks she doesn’t know how to read. “Don’t worry, Lyon,” he says, thumb rubbing at the plastic back. “The season’s only just started. Give it some time.”

“I’d love to,” she mutters, tilting her head back, resting it on his wrist. “But try explaining that to Izana.”

[Obi] I’m just saying, there’s no sexier crime than a heist. ...Well, I mean, that doesn’t involve actual sex.

[Shirayuki] *wheeze*

[Obi] You know what I mean.

[Shirayuki] Do I? Am I finding out too much about you right now? Is this how you get seduced at parties? Girls just cornering you and telling you about high-profile robberies?

[Obi] *laughs* This is absolutely not how I get seduced at parties. Unless you’d like to try...?

[Shirayuki] . . .

[Obi] Besides, it’s not like this is just a regular robbery. Heists don’t happen to normal people. Just the rich ones.

[Shirayuki] Well, this *is* a museum. It’s for learning purposes.

[Obi] Oh, like all that stuff actually *belongs* to a museum anyway.

[Shirayuki] Actually...this time it does!

[Obi] Wow, now there’s a mystery I want to investigate.

“We want to capitalize on the energy from this season.”

Izana isn’t a man who lounges; his mesh office chair is relentlessly ergonomic, only a few aggressively rolled lumbar supports away from a torture device. But still, he gives off the energy of a cat lazing in a sunspot, already gotten into the cream.

“Unsolved has always had excellent metrics, but since the premier--” he glances pointedly at Obi-- “they’re unparalleled by any other digital media Wisteria has put out on any of its platforms.”

Obi sprawls in one of the wire-frame chairs Izana has out, far too big for its delicate frame, every inch of him as still as the grave. Except for his one, bouncing knee, practically vibrating as he asks, “That’s...good right?”

“Very good.” Shirayuki may not be a metrics person, but working with Zen gave her more than a passing acquaintance with what success sounds like. “I think he’s telling us...we’re his cash cow.”

Izana’s lips lift into a smirk. “Just so. You’re more popular than Stand the Heat, and that’s saying something.”

It is saying something-- Obi’s show consistently has the most hits and the highest likes-to-views ratio. It’s been the backbone of Hypewire’s digital media section since it premiered last year, and now-- now Unsolved has passed it. If the graph Izana’s laid out is right, they’ve passed it by...a lot.

Shirayuki sneaks a glance at Obi as he leans over, taking in the numbers. She can’t move, can’t even breathe as he stares, eyes rounding as he understands what’s happening.

He rips the paper off the desk, shaking it at her. “Do you see this?”

She blinks. “Y-yes?”

His mouth breaks into a grin, like a Labrador who has found a particularly giant stick. “We’re awesome.”

“Oh,” she breathes, and wow, this is really not the time to think about the-- the Abayan effect, even if that smile makes it extremely hard not to. “Okay.”

“We should have you on the show.” His knee bounces a mile a minute, words barely keeping pace. “See if that makes the ratings draw even.”

Shirayuki stares at him, but there’s no hint of sarcasm, no undertone of agitation. For all intents and purposes, it seems as if he’s just...inviting her on his highly rated cooking show.

That can’t be right.

“Not a bad thought, Abayan,” Izana hums, fingers tapping at the desk. “Turn that in to me with the rest of your proposals for next season.”

Obi grins. “No problem, boss.”

“Wait.” This is all happening too fast; it’s all too much. Three weeks ago she was scrambling for a new co-host, and now she’s sitting next to Hypewire’s media darling, talking about how she needs to be on his show for his ratings. “I don’t-- we shouldn’t--”

“Oh, can you not cook?” Obi smiles, and it’s-- entirely too much. “Don’t worry, Lyon, you’ll be on top when I’m done with you.”

“N-no!” she chokes. “I-- I’m the daughter of a bar! I mean, my grandparents--” ugh, four years to get a journalism degree, and she still can’t word good-- “they owned a pub.”

“Great.” His teeth flash, half-feral. “Then you’ll know how to follow my lead.”

“I think,” Izana says, tipping her a speculative look, “that Shirayuki is less worried about her prowess in the kitchen, and more about what these sort of numbers might mean to a show like Unsolved. Isn’t that right?”

“Ah, I mean...” It’s terrible how good he is at his job. “It’s all so...quick. We’re still editing this season, and already I’m working on the ideas for next one, and I have to not only write scripts but also scout locations, and Higata is already stretched thin--”

“We’ll get you another editor.”

Her jaw drops. “W-what?”

Izana folds his hands, so calm, and tells her, “We’ll get you another editor.”

Shirayuki stares, mouth utterly dry. It had been a struggle to get Higata last season; after Obi had roasted the idea during Pitch Fight, Hypewire’s higher-ups had been loath to put any actual support behind Unsolved. Only his dogged enthusiasm-- and flagrantly working on the project behind their backs-- had gotten him on board after the pilot took off. And now Izana Wisteria was just handing her someone else. Personally.

She reaches down and pinches herself. Yep, this is-- this is real life. Somehow.

“You want to-- you mean that--” she gulps-- “you want to give Unsolved a team?”

He nods, brusque and efficient. “I can get you another researcher as well. Or if the locations appear to be a problem, perhaps a personal assistant?” He lifts a hand, a Wisteria shrug. “Just let me know your needs, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Unless it’s time, right?” Obi asks wryly. “That’s straight out.”

Izana’s mouth stretches into the barest grin. “The internet is instant, I’m afraid. You have to strike while the iron’s hot. I hope--” he fixes her with a meaningful look-- “we are all able to make the best of this opportunity.”

kisskissfall4luv: does ne1 no f this guy is gonna b here 4 the hole sesson? i luv Zen but i lik the nu guy 2 hes so funny!

kayla0202: I hope he is! I never thought I’d like something as much as Stand the Heat, especially a show about aliens and weird crime, but Obi and Shirayuki make me tune in every week! How long are Unsolved’s seasons again??

unsolvedjunky42: There’s only one other season, and that was 12 eps, though a lot of those were 10 minutes long, and these ones are averaging 17-20min. It looks like Obi Abayan is credited as co-host for the rest of the season: [follow link] So glad he signed on, I thought Unsolved would be dead in the water without Zen but Obi brings a whole new dynamic I didn’t ever realize the show was missing.

zenluvr999: i no were only 3 eps in but i think im gonna need a new name lmao

“Ah, I understand, but we really are looking to--” Shirayuki clenches her stress artichoke, its plush petals ballooning out from between her fingers, and stifles a sigh. “Yeah, I see. Thank you.”

The call cuts off with a beep, too cheerful a sound for its finality. Another opportunity lost. Shirayuki spills over her keyboard, groan lost beneath the function keys.

“Going that well, huh?” Kihal barely spares her a glance, but she does pull aside a headphone; the way editors show they care. “Tell me again how much you love this job.”

“I do love it,” she insists, muffled by the cool metal of her desk. “It’s just...so much work.”

“You know, we could just get that personal assistant.” Higata drops his headphones around his neck, settling back in his chair. It creaks beneath him, protesting his slouch. “I still can’t believe you said no to that.”

“We don’t need another team member.” Shirayuki lifts her head, just barely, to give him a warning glance. “We already have Kihal. That’s more than enough.”

“Really? We still have half a season left to edit, you have another season to write, and you want to tell me we couldn’t use another set of hands?” His eyebrow twitches up toward his hairline. “You just love making all those phone calls, huh?”

“It’s not that.” She rolls back, lifting herself upright. Her spine reminds her sharply that it doesn’t like doing that, that it was having a fine time as she was, but if there’s one thing Shirayuki knows how to ignore by now, it’s a complainer. “Unsolved was my idea to begin with, and if we can’t do the proposal we submitted last week, it should be me who’s to blame for it, not some poor intern.”

“She’s so cute,” Kihal coos across the cluster. “She’s got morals and everything.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Higata deadpans. “Didn’t you unionize the Yuris office?”

Her teeth flash predator white between the crimson stain of her lips. “Why do you think I volunteered to work this gig?”

He sighs, long-suffering. “See, this is the problem: the both of you like working too much. It’s getting in the way of having someone fetch my coffee for me.”

Shirayuki levels her best glare at him, the one she’s honed from one too many long nights in the editing bay. “If we had a PA, their job would not be to get you coffee.”

“If we had a PA, their job would be to make these stupid phone calls so Shirayuki can get actual work done,” Kihal informs him with a playful superiority than makes his eyes roll. “Instead of spending all day in a fugue of sadness and misery because no one will take her seriously.”

Shirayuki almost protests—there’s no fugue, and if anything, the rejections just make her more desperate and determined, but—

Her list of high-profile options has been reduced by a half, red lines spiking through some of her best hits with no relief in sight. She is about two seconds from eating her feelings through the oversized cinnamon buns in the company vending machine, and a fugue state is starting to sound like a preferable way to spend her afternoon.

“Ugh,” she decides, and lays down again.

“There, there,” Kihal croons, patting her back across their desks. “Someone will have to give you the time of day at some point.”

“I’m getting calls back.” She rolls over onto one cheek, thoughtful. “People are fans of the show! They just...don’t think we’re serious.”

Kihal scoffs. “About what? Aliens? Ghosts? I’ve been fielding queries all morning from Shuuka asking which direction we want to go for The Alexandria episode.”

“It’s the whole ghost hunting angle.” Higata leans over, liberating her artichoke from her grip, tossing it between his hands. “If I want to be fair, which I don’t, but here we are—it’s a new direction for the show. I guess it could be confusing to people used to our format.”

“I know, I know.” She pillows her chin with her hands, letting out a sigh. “I just wish one of them would give us a confirmation instead of—“ she waves her hand at her empty schedule—“all this.”

“They will.” She doesn’t know where Higata unearths all this unearned confidence, but she’s glad one of them has. “Let this season run its course. Zen was never big on the supernatural episodes, but these ones with Obi...people are definitely going to pay attention.”

He wouldn’t be saying that if he had to suggest waiting to Izana Wisteria. “They’re already paying attention to Obi. I’m always getting asked if--”

“If I’m as handsome as I look on screen?”

The thing is-- she’s not expecting it. One minute she’s sprawled across her desk, and the next Obi’s purr is tickling her ear, and--

“Ow, fff--” his gaze darts over where he clenches his nose-- “fudge. Sicles.”

“Nice save,” Kihal deadpans. “Now if only you could do that in the first minute of every video.”

“What can I say,” he honks, rubbing his nose. “I’m an off-the-cuff kind of guy.”

“You’re a ‘ruining our monetization’ kind of guy,” she shoots back, though she pushes over an abandoned chair for him to sit on.

“Oh, Obi!” Shirayuki yelps, hands hovering on either side of his face as he sits. “I’m so sorry! I was just--”

“Surprised, yeah, got that part.” he lifts his fingers, wobbling the bridge of his nose. “No harm done.”

“Good thing,” Higata mutters, “that face gets views.”

“Oh please.” Obi grins, devastating as always. “Chicks love a broken nose.”

Kihal barks out a laugh. “When it comes to you, chicks love breathing.”

He shrugs, sliding into a slouch. “Still no luck, I’m guessing?”

“None,” Shirayuki confirms. “Though people have been saying they enjoy the new season.”

“The concierge at the Roosevelt says you’re a lot cuter than Zen,” Kihal offers, needlessly.

Obi’s grin widens, wolfish. “You don’t say.”

“Maybe you should start using that Abayan charm to get us some bookings,” Kihal suggests wryly. “Earn your keep around here.”

“Please, I earn my keep. I’m the eye candy.” He winks. “Besides, I’d be happy to, but the big boss over here always tells me--”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Shirayuki says, “it’s really my job--”

Higata waves a hand, long suffering. “You see the problem.”

“I do.” Kihal settles back. “Well, if you really just need a place...”

“I’ll take anything at this point,” she says to the particleboard of the ceiling. “Even if it’s just a haunted hole in the ground.”

“All right, well--” Kihal grins, sheepish-- “my condo is haunted.”

[Obi] So you’re telling me that this is just some crazy lady’s house, filled with all her stuff?

[Shirayuki] Isabella Stewart Gardner was a socialite and a philanthropist, *not* a crazy lady.

[Obi] Right, okay, but...she did turn her house into a museum, and then made everyone promise not to touch it. Not exactly what I think of when someone says ‘stable.’

[Shirayuki] Because she *curated* it, Obi!

[Obi] So what you’re telling me is that she knew that from forever to the end of time, she would have better taste than everyone else on the planet.

[Shirayuki] *sputtering* W-well--

[Obi] No, no, you’re right. I retract the crazy lady thing. Because that’s *baller*.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* O-obi!

[Obi] I want to be that lady. Like that is shade from the grave.

[Shirayuki] . . . . She also was personally friends with Monet.

[Obi] SEE? Life goals.

“So,” Obi hums from around a dumpling, his chopsticks already rooting for another, “what do you think?”

Shirayuki looks up, halfway through a very un-dainty bite of her own. “About--? Oh! I can’t believe they’re only fifty cents each! Where did you find this place?”

Despite his reputation on camera-- forward-facing, casual, intimate-- Obi isn’t someone who looks at people head-on. She’ll catch a glance sometimes, or maybe a considering look from the corner of his eyes, but for the most part, he’s always moving, eyes darting around to watch who filters into a room, or at the cars moving outside, or staring down the squirrel that likes to scratch at their window.

So when he looks at her, gold eyes trapping her as thoroughly as amber, she notices.

“Well,” he says after a long moment, “when you run a food show, people do give you some hot tips. But, ah--” he rubs at the back of his head, ears pink at the tips-- “that wasn’t really what I, ah, meant.”

Her mouth rounds. “Oh.”

His hands raise, chopsticks knitted under his knuckles. “Though I’m glad you like it! It’s, ah, one of my favorite places too. I just thought that you might have some, er--” he grimaces-- “thoughts, about the whole haunted condo thing.”

“Oh! That.” She taps her chopsticks on her plate, trying to gather her thoughts. “I just think...I don’t know. It’s not a bad place to start, but I just wanted...”

She blows out her cheeks on a sigh. “The ghost hunting is a new aspect of the show, and I wanted us to come out strong with an actual location...”

His mouth curls at a corner, too knowing. “And having us just carry around proton packs and talk about cold spots in a friend’s house isn’t really going to do much for our supernatural cred?”

“Yeah.” She slumps against the chair, defeat. “That. But I also feel like beggars can’t be choosers, and no one else is telling us yes, so...”

He nods, mouth pressed into a thoughtful line. “So there’s no rush to say no.”

“Right, yeah.” She glances at him from the corners of her eyes. “How about you?”

Obi blinks, eyes fluttering wide. “Me? This isn’t really my--” he hesitates, mouth working, starting a half dozen words-- “ah, I mean, I think...it’s smart. You’re right, a bigger place will give us more credit, but if one doesn’t come through then we have to start somewhere. Besides,” his mouth tics at a corner, twitching toward a smirk-- “I’ve always wondered whether she’s bikini or boyshorts.”

It’s only when her chin hits her chest that she realizes her jaw has dropped. “We’re not there to look in her underwear drawer!”

“Well, we’re not at work for her to look in my gym bag either,” he replies, sour, “but she did anyway.”

“She already said that was an accident--”

“--a likely story--”

“--That’s not what I meant anyway,” she admits with a huff. “I wanted to know if you were okay with the whole, ah...” her shoulders round, shy-- “metrics thing.”

“Metrics?” His head cocks, quizzical, but then-- “you mean, the stuff Izana showed us weeks ago?”

“Two weeks ago,” she corrects, heat flaring on her cheeks, “and, um, yes. I just...you’re not mad?”

Obi stares. “About what?”

“Unsolved.”

He shakes his head. “You’re...really going to have to be more specific than that.”

“The ratings.” She pokes at a dumpling, miserable. “Stand the Heat-- that’s your baby isn’t it? You pitched it and everything.”

“I...did?” he says, brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just-- Unsolved is doing better.” It’s not bragging, she knows that, but it feels like it. “And it’s-- it’s okay if you’re, um, upset about it. You’ve been doing this for--”

“OH.” Obi coughs, suddenly looking anywhere but at their table. “No, I really-- you don’t need to worry about that. At all. Please.”

She stares. “Obi, it’s okay. I’m not going to take it personally if you--”

“Kid, please,” he begs, holding up his hands. “It’s nothing. I mean, yeah, if Stand the Heat was on top, I’d be happy. I mean, I was happy when it was on top. But, this is...” his fingers twirl his chopstick mindlessly-- “this is good, too.”

“But--”

“Listen, I know you may find this hard to believe, especially with how we, uh, met, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a huge fan of the show. Not even a little. Understated it, in fact.” The tips of his ears flush. “So, uh, it’s kind of cool that I joined my favorite show, and now it’s super popular. That’s sort of the whole fanboy dream, right?”

“O-oh!” She stares down at her hands, willing them to stop trembling. “I, uh...I didn’t...I didn’t really think of it like that.”

“Yeah, well, now you know you don’t have to worry about it,” he says with a laugh. “I’m living the dream here. Not only am I on the show, but I’m more popular than the last guy. And I get to take the cute host out to lunch and call it business. The only square I need to finish fanboy bingo is getting to ki--”

His teeth snap down, so loud she hears the click. “Haah, never mind. Hey look, is that the waiter? Could we, ah, get the check?”

[Sender]: iwisteria@wisteriacorp.com [Recipients]: s.lyon@hypewire.com [Subject]: Season 3 Hard Proposal

Is there any reason this isn’t in my inbox already?

Shirayuki closes her inbox with a grimace. “Ah, hey, Kihal?”

Her editor looks up, brows raised. “Yeah?”

She licks her lips, bracing herself. “Just...how haunted do you think your condo is?”