In retrospect, leading with it was probably a mistake.

“You—wait, what?”

“Never mind,” Scott says. “Never mind, it—you're back now, everything is fixed, it's fine. Everything's fine. There's just… some stuff I need to talk to you about.”

“You had a thing? With an FBI agent?” Hope looks like she can't work out whether she's angrier that Scott maybe-sort-of-cheated on her—does it count as cheating when one of them’s nothing but a pile of ash, Scott's not clear on the ethical parameters there—or whether it's just that he kind of fell into bed with the long arm of the law.

“Jae’s not—well, he is, but—look, it's complicated. It just sort of, it happened, okay? It was a weird time for everyone.”

“Yeah, so I hear.” Hope takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Fine. Tell me how you managed to sleep with Agent Woo, and we’ll go from there.”

“Yeah,” Scott says. “Okay,” and wonders where, exactly, to start.

“Guys,” Kamala whispered, as Cindy worked on the top floor window latch of the house, “this is a really, really bad idea.” She was flattened between the sill and the next window, having stretched out her arms and legs to help lift Yukio up.

“Dating is a security risk,” Phil said. He patted Jimmy companionably on the shoulder as he said it.

Jimmy pointedly shrugged off Phil’s hand. “Seriously? Is this really the time?”

Phil shaded his eyes against the sun. They were both wrapped heavily in parkas, knee-deep in snow a couple of miles out from Mt. Lussari village. Nothing but brilliant blue sky, mountains, and the wreckage of a military plane with all the bodies suspiciously missing. “It’s always a good time. Especially if you insist on using unsecured apps.”

“The annoying thing about all this is, I know actual magicians,” Jimmy grumbled, as he glared at Scott’s hands. “People who have real powers that bend space and time. Chaos magic. Mutant powers. None of that pisses me off. This does.”

“You say the sweetest things, darling,” Scott said. He had cards everywhere on the table and his laptop, prepping tricks for a corporate show. Jimmy glowered at Scott. He’d been in the middle of making Scott coffee, but magic tricks always drew Jimmy close, made him forget what he was doing. Even now, dressed for church in a suit. “Shouldn’t you be heading out?”

“You should come to church, you heathen sorcerer,” Jimmy said. He smirked and set the cup of coffee down by Scott’s wrist.

Jimmy padded over into the living room proper, where Scott was crouched at the coffee table before the TV, frowning in concentration over a black velvet cloth. Playing cards were strewn over the carpet, the table, and a battered notebook scrawled with notes. Scott nudged a silver coin under a card, flicked away the card, and made the coin disappear.

“Saw you pick that up,” Jimmy said, and grinned as Scott yelped and dropped the coin he’d palmed into his hand.

“Shit! Didn’t hear you come in.” Scott started guiltily gathering up the mess on the carpet, then he looked closely at Jimmy. “You all right?”

Scott peeked in. He was a little late thanks to traffic. On a quick sweep of the place, he thought for a moment that whoever he was meeting was also late. Or had stood Scott up. No such luck. In the corner of the restaurant, checking his phone, was a guy in a suit with a white tulip pinned to his lapel.

Huh. Scott felt a little embarrassed for snipping a wildflower off the sidewalk now, but he’d genuinely forgotten about the flower thing until he was on his way. He sidled over to the table and sat down. “Paxton’s friend?” Scott asked, then added awkwardly, “er, hi.”

So now here Scott was, looking up heirloom Dutch recipes on his phone in the baking supplies aisle at the grocery store.

“Shoes,” Jimmy reminded Scott, as they got through the door.

“Oh right. Cassie sweetie. You’ve got to take your shoes off,” Scott said, nudging his sneakers off his feet.

Cassie pulled a face at him, unimpressed. “I know, Dad. You’re the one who keeps forgetting.” She kicked off her shoes and sprinted into the house, zooming past Jimmy’s father with a rushed hello. There was a laugh from the kitchen and a yell of “Gramma!” from Cassie that made Jimmy grin as he put Cassie’s shoes on the rack.

“She’s right,” Jimmy told Scott, as he racked his own shoes.

“Just gimme the chicken soup,” Scott said, once Agent Woo ran out of breath.

Woo blinked and handed over the plastic soup container. It was lukewarm to the touch and smelled rich and oily and herby in a way Scott didn’t recognise. Strange wrinkly red raisin-like things floated on the surface among odd white shards, and the chicken was a weird charcoal colour through the clear plastic lid. “Err. Is this really chicken soup?” Scott asked, trying his best not to sound suspicious and failing.

“It’s obviously chicken soup,” Woo said, a little defensively.