Y/n's reflection stared back from the floor-to-ceiling windows, ghostly against the cityscape. A hundred and twelve floors up, and the world seemed small enough to hold in one fist.

Somewhere behind her, a familiar mechanical whirring. F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice came through soft, almost apologetic.

The schematic flickered and dissolved. He finally turned, eyes catching the light in a way that made him look almost predatory for a heartbeat. Then he smiled, and it was soft.