# Shammy – Debrief Rain tapped softly against the safehouse windows. The fairy lights were on again — a warm scatter of gold across the walls that softened the otherwise utilitarian room. Mai’s doing. Ace still pretended to complain about them, but she never actually turned them off. Ace was sprawled across the couch tonight, bare legs stretched along the cushions, idly flipping a throwing knife through the air and catching it again with casual precision. Mai sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table, focused on painting her nails a deep midnight blue. The door opened. Shammy stepped inside. Her jacket was damp from the rain, hair slightly darker where the drizzle had touched it. There was a flush across his cheekbones that didn’t entirely match the weather. Ace’s knife froze mid-spin. Then she grinned. “Oh, that face,” she said lazily. “That is absolutely the face of someone who had an interesting evening.” Shammy removed her jacket with his usual careful precision, hanging it neatly by the door. Mai glanced up. “Good evening?” Shammy exhaled slowly — almost a quiet laugh. She crossed the room and dropped onto the couch beside Ace, long legs stretching out as he leaned his head back against the cushions. For a moment he simply stared at the ceiling. “Educational,” he said. Ace barked a laugh. Mai’s eyebrows climbed. “Educational how?” Shammy turned her head slightly so she could see them both. “There appear to be entire… categories of human enthusiasm,” he said evenly, “that I had not personally field-tested until tonight.” Ace immediately sat upright, eyes lighting with delighted curiosity. “Oh, this is going to be good.” Mai covered her mouth, trying — unsuccessfully — not to laugh. “Shammy,” she said, voice bright with amusement, “did someone completely wreck you?” Shammy considered the question with absolute seriousness. “…Yes.” A beat of stunned silence. Then Ace slapped his shoulder once, proud and affectionate. “Hell yes.” Mai scooted closer to the couch, resting her chin lightly on the edge of the cushion. “Details,” she demanded. “You can’t just drop that and then go silent.” Shammy rubbed the back of her neck — a rare tell of mild embarrassment. “She was… extremely direct,” he admitted. Ace leaned forward eagerly. “Define direct.” Shammy sighed, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “She had very precise instructions,” he said carefully. “And an enthusiasm for repeating them until they were followed correctly.” Mai burst out laughing. Ace’s grin turned feral. “I like her already.” Shammy continued with the calm of someone presenting research findings. “There was a moment where I realized I had stopped analysing the experience and was simply… participating in it.” “Participating?” Ace echoed. “Yes,” Shammy said. “Audibly.” Mai gasped. “You made noise?” Shammy looked mildly pained. “I was encouraged.” Ace leaned back, folding her arms. “Scale of one to ten.” Shammy considered the question seriously. “Objectively… nine point four.” Mai’s hand slid casually onto his knee. “And subjectively?” Shammy paused. “…I appear to have misplaced several minutes of memory.” Ace laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from the corner of her eyes. “That’s my girl.” Mai’s touch remained warm and steady on his leg. “That must have been new territory for you.” Shammy nodded slowly. “It was… unexpectedly satisfying to let someone else take the lead.” Ace studied her for a moment — grin softening slightly. Then she leaned closer. “So,” she asked quietly, “did you leave all that good energy there… or did you bring some of it home?” Shammy met her eyes. The flush on her cheeks hadn’t faded. “I suspect,” she said calmly, “that most of it is still… circulating.” Ace set the knife down on the table with a soft metallic click. She shifted closer on the couch. Mai rose from the floor and joined them, sitting beside Shammy so their shoulders touched. “Well,” Ace murmured, “that seems like something we should investigate.” Shammy opened her mouth to respond — but Mai leaned in first, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of her mouth. Ace laughed softly and moved closer from the other side, fingers sliding lightly along her arm. Shammy exhaled, the calm composure she carried so easily beginning to unravel. Outside, the rain continued its quiet rhythm against the glass. Inside the safehouse, the Triad gathered close again — laughter, warmth, and the quiet intimacy of people who knew they could always come back to each other. No matter what the world threw at them.