… to the Hibachi (to the washroom…)

This is what I remember my old life being like. It’s just another Thursday afternoon and I’m sitting at a rooftop restaurant table, enjoying a plate of masala hibachi rice with lovely company. Jerry knowing the owners certainly got us overly generous portions, and Jerry just has a look on his face that says, “challenge accepted.” The muck of the things I’ve learned and done recently is pushed down, trodden upon and stomped on - a feeling of normalcy washes over me while eating and having a nice afternoon.
 
Even if Jerry started by trying too hard, it’s not a date. At least as far as I know. I think nothing of checking my phone when I get a text message. I can’t even hide my surprise and joy that it’s from my father. Having recently rescued him as Liliana, I haven’t gotten to speak to him plainly since Edward and Katharine… since all that happened… He wants to talk, but it needs to be a secured line. I’m not really being rude to Rocket if he doesn’t stop eating while I do the talking, right?
 
It seems dad has finally figured out video calling – either leading a resistance has taught him things or he has his own IT staff to help. I recognize where he’s at: he’s in the comms center in the PRIMUS doomsday house in France. I smile knowing that they made it and got it set up. Apparently, our father daughter talks are no longer limited to who’s hosting Christmas and birthday wishes, but now we discuss resistance fighting, safe houses, moles, and tracking leaks. So much for casual conversation. One thing that’s clear through his pain and grief is that he’s still my father, wants to look out for me, and keep me safe. If only he knew… I might have to text him to let him know I am still okay, because he clearly saw the attack helicopter over my shoulder just before I did. Looking over my shoulder, I was probably too casual when I hung up on him, but the whirleys appearance has turned me right cross as my day off disappears nearly as quickly as the first two plates that were put in front of Rocket did.
 
Even more fun arrives as NAGA agents drop down onto the roof and a loudspeaker announces they are here for the restaurant owners and it turns out this is a theme with Rocket. It would seem the options of either eating or not eating are equally dangerous for him. Those NAGA agents overhear us seeing if anyone on our team is available and I can barely convince them it was just for my bodyguards. It seems not doing a movie in a while has got me rusty, or maybe I’ve been too reliant on the confidence boost I get while being Liliana. Either way, one of the agents won’t take his eyes off us, even as Lyzen appears at the far end of the terrace and is nearly immediately gunned down by the helicopter. We can’t just change while he’s staring right at us, so I make the same face my father did when he saw the helicopter, point, then cover my face. It’s only a split second, but that’s all Rocket needs as he grabs me, and we fall through the floor into the Men’s washroom. Rocket is already off, but I need a moment to change and power up. He normally makes me look slow, but between him and Lyzen, they have the fight handled before I can even crack a window to get out. I transform back to Victoria and leave the washroom, making the bloke about to walk in do a double take to check he isn’t about to walk into the lady’s washroom. I flash him a smile and just keep walking.
 
Jerry makes haste out of there, like the dinner bell was rung several counties away, but we meet back up at homestead. He fills me in on what I missed, and I offer a suggestion - “Maybe next time, we could get takeout?”. He holds up a giant bag from the restaurant and I just shake my head and roll my eyes.