He knew where Mustang and Mimic would be. There was one place she had always loved more than others.
And Roman was right. He walked through the snowcapped tunnel that led into Beluga Bay, where an entire observation auditorium had been built for guests to sit and watch the five beluga whales swim around them, playing with the various different enrichment toys that were dropped in and swapped out every other day. The air inside the auditorium was set to reflect the cool temperatures of the water, hitting Roman in the face with a cold blast of air as he entered.
Mimic and Mustang were sitting on the frontmost bench as two belugas, Daphne and Fred, tossed a red ribbon between them, using their tail fins to pass the ribbon to each other, their white folds shimmering under the blue light that filtered through the water. Like plump mermaids from some other planet. Mustang wasn’t the only one who loved these hypnotizing creatures.
“Now, watch Fred go taunt Velma with the ribbon,” Roman said as he sat down next to Mustang. Sure enough, the beluga whale with the red ribbon between his teeth swam at a much smaller beluga, running the ribbon all across the beluga’s face before letting it go and swimming off. “He’s been doing that for a while now. Might have a crush on her.”
“Maybe,” Mustang said, eyes on the wall of glass.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mimic said as she stood, hand still holding Mustang’s. She kissed it before letting go. The taps of her shoes against the smooth floor followed her out.
“I’m sorry—”
“I’m sorry—”
The dual apologies came at the same time. Roman smiled and forged ahead, wanting to explain himself first. “I trust you, Mustang. Enough to put all of our lives on the line while you whip us through cramped streets. I trust you to have my back, and I hope you trust me to have yours. I would be a shitty-ass leader if I didn’t trust you, but also if I didn’t want to keep you all safe. And that means taking some extra precautions with information. It could be complete bullshit, and I could be overreacting, but the Pride has their ear on us somehow. With us being almost done, I don’t want to take a single chance.”
Mustang pushed a thick curl of brown hair behind her ear, a row of silver earrings catching the light. “I get that. I do, boss.” She leaned back, looking up at the shimmering water, three of the belugas swimming past them in a straight line. “I let my anger and, well, my pride get the best of me. I did. I went straight to nuclear mode… I just can’t imagine ever working alongside the devil himself, so it hurt to think you saw that.”
“I’m sorry,” Roman repeated. “You know the world we play in doesn’t always follow logic and rules. It makes things harder to predict.”
“I understand,” Mustang said. “And I trust you, Roman. Whatever you’ve got planned, I’ll follow along without any more questions.”
“No, I want the questions. I’m not a god—I don’t want to make you all think my word is the final say. I have my own blind spots. I make mistakes. But together, we can usually get over most of the speed bumps.”
“Only if I’m the one driving.”
“Of course.”
Mustang bumped her shoulder into Roman’s. She nodded toward the exit. “Should we get back to the gang? Before they think I’m drowning you in the shark exhibit?”
Roman nodded, laughing as they both stood up. Mustang waved goodbye at her beluga pals, and the two of them walked back to the hideout, joking about the beluga whales and how they might deserve a cut from the pot after all the emotional support they’d provided.
Entering the hideout, they were greeted with loud music and Bang Bang gathering everyone up in the center of the room. He spotted them and waved them over, the sour mood from earlier no longer spoiling their night. Everyone was smiling, drinking, laughing. It was like one of those tacky “live, laugh, love” posters but in real life.
“Alright, gang, everyone pair up.” Bang Bang took center stage as he looked around the room, holding two boxes in both his hands. One was a game of Twister, and the other looked like a case meant to hold hundreds of dollars. “We’re playing Drag Twister tonight, brokis.”
“Drag Twister?” Phantom asked, sitting up on the couch. He no longer winced when he made movements, making Roman confident that he’d heal up in no time, thanks mostly in part to the miracle worker that was Doc.
“Drag Twister, sí. I made it up, but it’s simple: one person spins the Twister wheel, and whatever body part and color that lands is what you use to make-up your partner, after all the foundation goes on.”