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Summary
She watches him strut around headquarters, trying to look confident and purposeful as he searches for a reason to be there—orbiting Mel, while being quietly consumed by something she isn't sure he has the cojones to face.
Trinity sighs, weighing her vendetta against Mel's happiness. She really is getting a martyr complex, just like the rest of these sick fucks.
(Kingdon, reluctantly witnessed and orchestrated by Trinity Santos, who kinda has her own thing going on and doesn't need this right now)