Here now in the dark of four in the morning, the din of the clubs and bars from earlier in the evening still roaring in his ears, Jason is cautiously approaching the tub in the courtyard. In his hand: an empty prescription bottle from inside his wrecked apartment. Greeted by overturned chairs, table, strewn books and papers, he doesn’t suspect burglary. He suspects something sadder—hurt. As he walks through the back of the apartment, out to the courtyard he spies, perched up on the wall, two small cats. They are watching the tub—but not the carp. One, a noble gray cat named Muriel and the other, a small calico named Marilyn, stare curiously at a scene they’ve not witnessed before. The pair sit cuddled side-by-side and peer as Jason breeches the shadow of the nook, and the city’s ever-ambient light fills the scene bluely. There in the dark water of the tub is Elsa, soaked in an H&M summer dress. She looks up at him, eyes half-closed, drugged, but smiling. “Look,” she says and hauls the carp up out of the water into the air where it wriggles in her hands. “I caught him!” she says and then laughs loudly. She holds the fish to her face and looks carefully at it, kisses it and sets it free in the water again. She watches it swim and sniffles, then covers her face in her hands.

“They hate me.”

Jason and the cats watch, perplexed. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but…” he steps over to the tub and stoops. “I love you.”

She peers from behind her hands, shocked.

“Sorry. I’ve had a bit to drink, but yeah. I do.”

Elsa smiles brightly, tears running down her face. “Jason Gunn.”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Elsa Finch,” she holds out one hand to shake.

Jason looks at her hand and then her, “Fibocin.”

She takes back her hand. Suddenly, she frowns, “I love you, also, but…” she looks around herself, the state she’s in.

“You’re fine. I got your back.”

She sloshes water out of the tub as she reaches out to grab him in a hug. They kiss.