Chapter Text
Do you feel unsafe?
- Do you feel like you are in an unsafe situation?
- Are you or a friend a victim of a crime?
- Have you or a friend been physically harmed?
If you need help, go to any employee and ask for Angella’s Blend. We are trained to help.
- Ask for it black, and we’ll walk you to your car.
- Ask for it with cream and sugar, and we'll summon a ride share.
- Ask for it with lemon, and we’ll call the police.
Catra laughed bitterly at the sign on the women’s bathroom wall. She could not remember the last time she felt safe.
No. That was not true. She could remember, but she did not want to think about that now.
She had seen those signs before but never really looked at them. Those signs were for Other People. People who were not smart and streetwise the way she was. People who could not defend themselves. People who were stupid enough to get themselves into those situations and did not have the gonads to just get the fuck out.
In other words, people who were most definitely Not Her.
She studied the sign, bit her lip, and pulled her comb out of her purse, running it through her expensive haircut. Prime always wanted her to look good when he took her out. The trouble was that looking too good was problematic.
There were two million people in the city of Bright Moon. According to her boyfriend, every single one of them would love to sleep with her; It did not matter if they were men, women, or non-binary. It did not matter if they were gay, straight, bi, or ace. It definitely did not matter whether they were human, hybrid, or fae. Every single one wanted to fuck Catra.
Staring into her own mismatched eyes in the mirror, she could not understand how she got here. She was twenty-three, but she felt (and probably looked) about twice that, a testament to her shitty eating and sleeping habits.
Using the comb, she parted the thin fur on her neck, looking for any trace of what happened last night. Apart from scratches that came from her own claws, all she found were numerous circular brown marks, almost like a rash, that stippled her skin, getting lost in her fur. Invisible unless you looked.
It was not the first time she made him mad enough to get physical during one of their drunken fights, but it was the first time he put his hands around her neck and squeezed so long she blacked out.
Sometime after that (it could have been minutes or hours), she woke up, her head pounding, covered in vomit, having pissed herself. Prime was beside her, calling her name. He helped her up, gently admonishing her for drinking too much, and helped her shower and change clothes. When she protested that she had not drunk that much and tried to call him out on what he did, he laughed and said something about getting blackout drunk gave her nightmares.
He was so sure, sounded so convincing that she might have believed him. It wouldn’t be the first time she lost track of her consumption, after all.
Except that the back of his hands each sported five deep puncture wounds. Scratches and slashes under the fur on her neck marked where she scrabbled to throw him off.
After their make-up sex, Catra got up to get some ibuprofen for her migraine (and her various other aches and pains). Numb, emptied of emotion, she sat curled up in the window of the dark living room rather than going back to bed. From this vantage point, she felt crystal clear about her future.
He was going to kill her.
He would kill her, and no one would care. She didn’t matter. She knew that. She would just be gone, and no one would even think to look for her. She had not talked to Scorpia in more than a year. Their last conversation had not ended well. She stopped talking to Entrapta even before that. And Adora… Well, she refused to think about Adora. The point was that there was not a person on Etheria who cared what happened to her.
This morning, in the cold light of day, the idea seemed overly dramatic. Foolish. Ridiculous.
Still, she stared at the sign, her stomach clenched up in a knot, her chest aching. And as she stared, she experienced that moment of utter clarity again.
He was going to kill her. It was a fact. If she stayed with him, she was going to die.
Adrenaline surged through her, and all her dormant survival instincts came screaming to life. Her hackles went up, her claws slid out, and she wanted nothing more than to drop to all fours and fucking run. But she had nowhere to go.
The door banged open, and Catra jumped, realizing she was taking too long. Prime was not above sending an employee in to check on her. Sometimes he would quietly ask them to make sure she wasn’t throwing up. At places they went to eat regularly, she knew the staff was extra solicitous because of her eating disorder.
She emerged into the crowded dining room. At eight o’clock in the morning, this little bistro was hopping with a variety of well-heeled guests. The crowd was diverse, fae and hybrids as numerous as the full humans. This place was praised in the reviews for its dedication to serving various dietary needs and for an amazing Sunday brunch.
This is what Prime and Catra did after they fought. They would have makeup sex as soon as they were done fighting. It was some bullshit the last counselor they saw suggested. “To reestablish their intimacy.” Then Prime would take Catra somewhere exclusive to eat. After that, they usually indulged in some retail therapy. The cost was usually in direct proportion to the intensity of the fight.
“How are you feeling?’ Prime asked her in his cultured accent as he stood up so she could slide onto the inside of the bench seat in the booth.
“I’m good,” Catra chirped as brightly as she could with her sore throat. “This place is adorable! Thank you for finding it!”
He raised his eyebrow at her and smiled faintly. It wasn’t a good smile, and she could smell his irritation. Fuck. Was she being annoying? She dialed down her expression, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Where do you want to go after this?”
“Would you like to take a walk and look at the holiday decorations?” He asked.
Her feet hurt in the shiny black pumps she wore (he always turned up his nose at the hybrid custom of wearing toeless half-shoes), her tights weren’t very thick, and the cold, dry air seemed to be making her sore throat worse, but if it would put him in a good mood, she was totally up for it. “That would be great,” she lied.
The smile on his face looked more genuine, the irritation in his scent evaporated, and she felt the knot in her stomach relax marginally.
A short, sparkly-haired waitress came over. “Good morning. Welcome to The Moonstone. My name is Glimmer, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Would you like to start with drinks, or do you know what you would like?” She was part fae by the sugary notes in her scent.
“What do you recommend?” Prime asked her.
Catra did not even look at either the waitress or the menu, keeping her eyes down, not having the energy to interact with anyone today. It didn’t matter. Prime liked to order for both of them--he said it was a habit from his youth when people had manners.
The waitress replied, “We have an excellent smoked salmon brunch platter. It’s very popular with our magicat customers. Also, this morning we have baked brie with raspberry sauce, it’s made with a gluten-free crust. That’s my personal favorite.”
“No, I don’t think so.” He paused to look at the menu again. “Tell me about this item?”
The faint odor of lust began to wind through his scent as he talked to the half-fae woman. Catra knew it wasn’t directed at her. She had talked to him about it before, but he always claimed that since she was a female magicat, she was much more attuned to the unconscious (therefore involuntary) hormonal changes in people’s scents that happened when they saw someone attractive. It wasn’t his fault that Catra’s eating disorder made it difficult to find her as attractive as he once did.
She was very glad Prime’s sense of smell wasn’t quite as good as hers when it came to emotions. There was no way that logic would apply to her when she watched some buff blonde walk by.
“I think two avocado toasts will be sufficient.”
Catra hated avocados, and Prime always seemed to forget that too much grain gave her stomach cramps, but if she told him she didn’t want that, she would catch hell for embarrassing him.
The server’s cheerful manner faltered for a second. “ Two avocado toasts, sir? Or did you mean a double order?”
“Two orders. The lady and I will both have that.”
"Okay. Wonderful. " The woman's scent had changed too, but it wasn’t a scent that Catra would associate with attraction. It was almost like the one that signaled anger in a full-human but wrapped in caramel and buttercream. Fae signals were weird, and Catra did not have much experience with them--for all she knew, that smell meant the woman was ready to go (fighting or fucking) right here and now.
A pause while the twinkly bitch presumably wrote down their order. “How do you want your eggs, madam?” she asked unexpectedly.
“What?” Catra jumped at being addressed. “Sorry? Eggs? I kind of like them poached…” She looked up at Prime. She saw the flash of disapproval, smelled his anger, and winced.
“The avocado toast comes with eggs?” Prime asked, a curl of contempt in his voice. “I didn’t see that on the menu. I was looking for a vegan option.”
“Oh yes,” the woman replied cheerfully. “All of our dishes come with a choice of eggs for our carnivore customers. Naturally, we still serve the vegan version to folks who prefer it.”
“Ah. Yes. That would be satisfactory.” Prime put his arm around Catra, pulling her towards him on the bench seat and looking down at her. “I'm not sure you could manage eggs this morning, could you, my dear? What with your hangover? Don’t forget; you were so ill I had to clean you up and put you to bed last night. I’m not sure rich food would stay down.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Catra backpedaled, looking at her hands on the table and twisting the emerald ring on her finger. Her chest hurt, and she was too tired to argue. This was not the hill she wanted to die on. “It’s fine.”
“She really was in a state,” Prime told the waitress with a little laugh. He lowered his voice conspiratorily, and the lust in his scent strengthened. “Sick as a dog, if you’ll excuse the expression. Both ends. Just made a terrible mess of the bathroom. And then completely blacked out. She could do with something light and easily digested.” He squeezed Catra’s shoulders. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah.” Catra swallowed hard, her throat aching, and pretended to enjoy the snark, “Just had a little too much at the after-party last night.” Everyone found Prime so charming. Other women always talked about how wonderful Prime was and told her how lucky she was to be his girlfriend. Especially with all the problems she had. No one else would have such patience with her craziness, her drinking, her out-of-control temper, her eating disorder, and her depressive episodes. Anyone else would have already thrown her out or had her locked up.
The shiny idiot giggled. “Oh, no! That sounds terrible. Well, no worries!” Her manner was still cheerful, but the now caramel odor smelled burnt. “All our breakfasts are recommended as sovereign remedies for hangovers. And to drink?”
“Mmm. A Bloody Mary, I think.” Prime said, cheerful now that no animal products would offend his refined sensibilities.
“For you, ma’am?”
Catra took a deep breath, her heart beating loudly in her ears, making the noise of the cafe fade into the distance. She cleared her throat but the words sounded harsh and strange as she said, “I-I’d like some tea. I noticed you make your own blends. Can I have an Angella’s Blend?”
The woman nodded and smiled, but the burnt sugar smell poured off of her. “Oh, yes. Absolutely, no problem. Would you like it black, with lemon, or with cream and sugar?” The server spoke so smoothly that Catra knew the woman thought she was really ordering tea, and she swallowed her disappointment. What did she expect?
“I didn’t see tea blends on the menu.” Prime raised an eyebrow; he liked anything that seemed novel and exclusive.
“The tea menu is on the chalkboard over there.” The woman jerked her head in the direction of the coffee bar. “I can bring the list over if you like.”
“No, no, my dear. That’s not necessary. Two of them, please.”
“What would you like with your tea?” The server asked Catra again.
“Oh, I think I need it fully loaded,” Catra said. Maybe the glittery ditz would get it. “Cream, sugar, lemon. The works. It seriously looks like just what I need.”
“Got it. No problem, fully loaded.” Her giggle was slightly manic. “Angella’s Blend is a great choice for just this issue. We got your back here.”
When the server left, to Catra’s relief, Prime took his arm from around her shoulder and started scrolling through his phone, reading the news and answering emails. Catra took that as permission for her to open her own phone and play a few games.
Their dishes arrived, and the server set down their plates with a cheery, “Here you are.” The sparkly bimbo had problems following directions. Catra’s plate held four poached eggs arranged atop several pieces of bacon and a slice of toast topped with avocado and salmon.
It smelled amazing.
For a moment, Prime’s lip curled, and Catra thought he would send it back, but then he looked at Sparkly Bimbo with a lascivious little smile and changed his mind. “Thank you, my dear.”
The server made another trip, bringing out a tray with Prime’s drink and a porcelain tea so delicate that Catra was afraid to touch it. Fortunately, the server poured.
“This is a charming little place.” Prime smiled indulgently, watching Sparkles walk away, his eyes half-lidded and the lust smell momentarily overpowering the bacon. “If you like it, perhaps we can come back.”
“I’d like that.” Knowing he would not begin until she did and he would complain about cold food if she didn’t start quickly enough, she picked up her knife and fork and took a bite. It was so good. Bits of salmon were mixed into the green goo on the toast, making the slimy paste into something genuinely palatable, while the poached eggs and bacon were the only taste of heaven someone like Catra would ever get. If Sparkles over there didn’t get Catra’s secret message, at least the food was good.
As much as she loved the food, she had to eat very slowly; swallowing hurt . The eggs and salmon were soft and went down okay, but the toast and bacon felt scratchy and seemed to stick no matter how slowly she chewed them.
Halfway through their meal, a young, dark-skinned man in a chef’s coat walked over to them. “Hello, I’m Bow,” he introduced himself. “I’m one of the chefs here today. I was wondering how the meal is?”
“It is delicious, young man. Thank you.” It seemed odd to Catra that one of the cooks would come out to talk to them in the middle of the brunch rush, but Prime smiled, pleased to have the restaurant taking note of his obvious importance. He nodded at Catra, “You have even gotten my finicky kitten to do more than pick at her plate.”
“Would you like some more water?” The chef’s scent signals were confusing because of the cooking smells that clung to him, but a whiff of anger came through as he accepted a jug of ice water from one of the other staff. He leaned over the table to pick up Catra’s water glass, and she swore he winked at her. “How did you like the tea?” he asked her jovially.
“It was good,” she replied shortly, hoping he did not try to have a conversation with her or she would never hear the end of it.
“It’s a little higher in caffeine than most of our teas, but…” he cut himself off. She didn’t see how it happened, but suddenly Catra’s water glass spilled all over the table and all over Prime.
“You little idiot!” Prime shouted, jumping to his feet and grabbing the young man’s collar, his expensive suit soaked.
The chef looked terrified by the huge man, but he clearly knew how to fight. He also knew how to sidestep a fight he didn’t want. The coat was unbuttoned and he ducked out of it, leaving it hanging from Prime’s hand. “Oh, no. I am so sorry! Please, let me help you!” Grabbing a towel from Sparkles, who stood nearby, the man set about trying to mop the water up. “Can you get some help with this?” he said to Sparkles. The next few seconds were chaotic as he fussed more than was strictly necessary to clean up a spill. Every head in the place turned to watch. It was probably a good thing. Prime never lost his temper if he felt like people were watching.
Two men in chef’s jackets emerged from the kitchen, identifying themselves as the owners. The tallest of them rivaled Prime’s height, and he was talking loudly and standing very close to Prime, taking up his whole attention. “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. What can we do to fix this situation?”
“Excuse me, miss.” The man smiled graciously at Catra, gesturing for her to scoot out of the booth. “You don’t want to get your dress wet. Perhaps you could stand up while we clean the table? Glimmer? Why don’t you take the young woman over there for a moment?” He gestured vaguely toward the back of the restaurant.
She hesitated, seeing Prime’s glare. Now she would get to spend all afternoon listening to how both the server and the young chef were trying to flirt with her. As soon as they were in private, he would take this mess out of Catra’s hide. She fisted her hands to hide their trembling.
A small hand gripped her wrist. The waitress pulled her further away and put more people between her and Prime “The police are coming, but it seems like this isn’t just a date gone wrong,” she whispered.
The police? They really called the cops on Prime? Her stomach flipped over. If she didn’t get out of here, Catra was as good as dead. She turned her head to meet the other woman’s eyes for the first time. “It’s not.”
The waitress's eyes widened, and something like surprise flashed across her features, but then her round jaw firmed. “Do you need somewhere to go?”
“Yes!” Catra hissed. “Please.”
“Okay. Hold on.”
The whole world spun and vanished. For a terrible second, Catra stood nowhere, her feet feeling nothing under them, falling through space. Then it coalesced into the icy parking lot on a completely different street from the restaurant.
Dizzy and disoriented, she fell off her high heels when they hit the concrete.
“Sorry.” The woman crouched down to help her up. “Listen. I called someone from Mara’s Place to come get you. It’s a shelter for domestic violence and trafficking victims. The police can come and take your statement later if you want to press charges.”
Was that what Catra was? A victim? She cringed away from that characterization, keeping her eyes down on the concrete, not wanting to see the judgment or, worse, pity. “I… yeah. Okay.” Anything was better than going back to Prime’s tonight.
An enormous gray SUV idled right in front of them. Sparkles grabbed the back door handle and opened it. “Bow said he would make sure to grab your coat and purse while George and Lance were keeping Prime occupied. I'll bring them to you later.”
“We’ll have you ride in the back for a few if you don’t mind. Put your head down until we get out of here.” A different woman’s voice said as Catra climbed in. The driver didn’t turn around to look at Catra. Although the car was toasty warm, a black winter hat was pulled so low over her ears that one couldn’t tell whether she was full-human or fae.
“I know it seems dramatic,” she continued. “You’re kind of conspicuous, and we don’t want that asshole seeing which way you go.” Her voice sounded calm, as though she often drove the get-away car. “You have got to be cold.” The white silk dress Catra wore was pretty but offered zero warmth. “There’s a blanket on the seat.”
Balling herself up as small as possible on the floor, Catra drew the blue blanket around her shoulders and over her head, willing her heart to slow down, willing the tears back.
The woman in front was muttering to herself as she put the car in gear and peeled out of the lot. “Avocado toast. For fuck’s sake. I’ll give him avocado toast. Right up his fucking ass.”
That made Catra snort a little chuckle.
“Okay,” called the woman after a while. “We’re clear. It looks like your guy is having a nice little talk with the cops if all the flashing lights mean anything. If we’re really lucky, he took a swing at George.”
Catra did not reply, could not reply. All the adrenaline had drained out of her, leaving her limp and breathless. She couldn’t even make herself even crawl into the back seat.
“Are you doing okay back there? I can stop, and you can jump in the front if you want.”
“I just… I need a minute.” Catra mumbled, irritated that the woman was asking her questions. Lassitude weighed her down like lead. The floor was fine. Good even. The enclosed space helped her body calm down. For the first time today, she felt like she had a chance of getting warm, and she had kicked the hated high heels into the street before Sparkles closed the door. She had started to doze and wanted to drift in this pleasant half-dream a little longer.
She pulled the blanket more snugly around herself. This blanket was Catra’s new best friend. The fleece was soft sherpa on one side and sort of velvety on the other, perfect for holding in her hands and kneading with her claws. It smelled like the laundry detergent Catra used to use. It was the stuff the group home and homeless shelters liked to use because it was super cheap, hypoallergenic, completely scentless to full-humans, and inoffensive to both fae and hybrids.
As scents were wont to do, the chemical, faux-floral smell triggered a set of intense memories. They were so intense that Catra imagined Adora’s scent floating past her as strongly as if the blonde girl was in the vehicle. But the car bore many people’s scents; It was just a pattern recognition thing triggered by the smell of that detergent. Perhaps the woman drove a rideshare, or maybe she regularly took in strays like Catra.
Up front, the woman asked another question. Something about getting checked out at the hospital. She sounded worried about something.
"Yeah. Okay. Whatever," Catra agreed from the safety of her warm nest.
Jolted to consciousness, Adora opened one eye and reached blindly for her phone. Glimmer seldom called first thing on a Sunday morning unless it was important. “Yeah, Glimmer? What’s up?”
“We just had someone ask for an Angella’s Blend,” her sister replied without preamble.
Adrenaline shot through her, waking her completely. Adora shook off her torpor, jumped out of bed, put the phone on speaker, and started pulling on the clothes she’d worn yesterday. “And you need me?” She wasn’t officially on call this weekend, but she did tend to be people’s go-to when something potentially violent came up.
“Yeah,” Glimmer replied as Adora hastily grabbed her keys and hit the remote to turn on her car. “I’m getting serious bad vibes about this one. This guy is a piece of work. I’ll tell you when you get here. Cops are on their way, but I’m worried she might change her mind if we don’t get her away from him now. She looks really scared.”
“Okay. I’ll head over. Does it look like she needs medical attention?”
“Yeah, I’d say so unless she flat-out refuses. She does not look good. You’ll probably want to call Netossa and tell them you might be coming. And, also?” The slight hitch in Glimmer’s voice made Adora mentally brace herself. “You should know. She’s a magicat.”
Adora stopped getting ready to leave, freezing in place with one shoe on.
“I just thought I should warn you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” Adora’s voice sounded too high-pitched to her own ears. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks for the warning.”
“I’m done here at one o’clock. If you need help with the intake.” Glimmer’s voice was gentle now. “Or if you just want to talk about it later.”
Two magicats had come through the shelter since Adora started working there, and both hit her hard. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Okay. Text me when you get here. Bye.” Glimmer hung up.
Two minutes later, Adora jammed her hat on and ran out the door, praising the magic of remote control car starters in her head. By the time she got to the vehicle, it was warm. She tossed a freshly laundered blanket in the back seat. Magicats were sensitive to cold.
“Get your shit together, Greyskull,” Adora muttered, tossing the clipboard with all the intake forms down onto the passenger seat. She probably had a full afternoon’s work to do. She shoved down the ridiculous hope she always got whenever they had to help a magicat. It was not going to be Catra. She’d been looking for Catra for a long time, and every lead turned out to be a disappointment.
Ten minutes later, she texted Glimmer to let her know she had arrived and sat nervously tapping her fingers against the steering wheel.
“Holy shit, Adora!” Glimmer teleported into the front seat, sparkling more than usual in her rage. “He’s doing that thing where he’s ordering her food and all that bullshit. And guess what he ordered? This fucker ordered the fucking avocado toast for the both of them. It’s even marked ‘VEGAN’ in big, bold letters on the menu.”
“No way.”
“Right? Who expects a magicat to eat a vegan meal?” she ranted. “Who does that?”
“Do I need to circle the block?” Adora asked, having more immediate concerns.
“I don’t think so. Pretty sure this is just a domestic.” Glimmer’s phone pinged. “Okay, Bow’s gone to talk to them. Gotta go.” She blinked out.
Adora dialed her own phone. It picked up on the first ring.
“Adora. What’s up? Do you have something for us?”
“Hey there, Netossa. Yeah, maybe. I don’t have the details yet, but it started with an angel shot request. Glimmer called me from The Moonstone. She said the victim might need medical. Are both you and Perfuma there this weekend?”
“Yeah. I’ll let her know.”
Five minutes later, Glimmer reappeared with the magicat in tow. The woman dropped to her hands and knees, a common occurrence for folks the first time Glimmer teleported them.
In crisis mode, Adora spared the woman only a quick glance as her sister opened the back door in favor of watching for unfriendly eyes. Even though it looked like a domestic, they had no idea of the woman’s situation. Magicats were often trafficking victims, which occasionally meant they were in the clutches of a professional criminal. Speed and situational awareness were key to making these rescues-- that’s why Adora was the one usually called for this kind of thing.
The dark-haired, painfully thin magicat, her ears pierced and sporting what looked like some expensive jewelry, crawled into the back seat, kicking her high heels off into the street before Glimmer closed the door and curled up on the floor, apparently unconcerned about the expensive white silk dress she wore.
“You have got to be cold,” Adora told her. “There’s a blanket on the seat.”
Glancing up at the rearview mirror, Adora saw a shaking, black-clawed hand adorned with some serious bling grab it.
Even after they were blocks away and Adora gave her the all-clear, the woman stayed curled up on the floor. Was it fear of being seen or something else? “Are you doing okay back there? I can stop, and you can jump in the front if you want.”
The magicat coughed, then answered in a rasping croak., "I just… I need a minute.” The words were strained as if talking took effort.
That didn’t sound good. Shit. Glimmer’s instincts were on the money again. "Are you hurt?" Adora asked. "I can take you to the hospital to get checked out."
"Yeah. Okay. Whatever," The woman wheezed, barely audible over the road noise.
“Are you all right?”
No reply.
“Fuck me,” Adora growled, her adrenaline spiking again. Taking the next right into a gas station, she cranked up the heat in the SUV to 90 degrees. Parking right in front of the building, she jumped out of the driver's side door and opened the door into the back seat to check on her passenger.
The magicat was completely covered by the blanket, but she made a distressed little mew at the cold blast of air. That she had wedged herself into that tight place was not a good sign. Magicats instinctively sought confined spaces to hide in when they were badly hurt or sick.
“Hi,” Adora said softly, relieved that the woman was still conscious. “Can you tell me what’s happening?”
Without raising her head, the magicat coughed and replied in a voice reminiscent of wet cement, “I’m not…” she sucked in a harsh breath, “sure.” Another gasp. “This just…” Gasp. “started.”
“Can I have a look at you?.”
The magicat coughed wetly. “Okay.”
“I’m going to pull this back.” Mindful that if the magicat was wounded, there was the possibility of getting her eyes scratched out, Adora pulled back the blanket to reveal the trembling woman’s short curly hair and pierced ears. Her forehead rested on her knees as if she felt faint. Her arms were bare to the elbow, the fur blond with ginger stripes, and her dark brown tail wrapped tightly around her.
Those stripes… Adora stared at them. She knew those stripes. She used to lie beside Catra and trace them with her finger. ”Catra?” Adora called softly, gently pulling the blanket to reveal more markings and confirming it. Why didn't Catra say anything? “Catra? It’s me.” While they had not seen each other, the magicat always said she could recognize people as easily by scent as sight.
The woman lifted her head, her gold and blue eyes glazed over with shock. “Hey… Adora?”