Chapter Text
Time did not fix everything.
But it changed how they carried it.
IMP still smelled like gun oil and burnt coffee. The water cooler still rattled like it was dying. Blitz still yelled too loud and filed paperwork too late. Hell didn't soften just because they did.
But something fundamental had shifted since Millie's absence.
It started quietly.
It was one of those nights that crept up on them without asking.
No plans. No agenda. Just the quiet hum of Hell outside Moxxie's apartment and the low glow of the TV throwing muted light across the living room. Barbie was stretched out along the couch, her legs tangled with his, jacket tossed over a chair, like she'd decided - subconsciously - that she wasn't leaving anytime soon.
Moxxie sat half-curled against her, one arm tucked around her waist, the other absentmindedly tracing the slow circles against her hand. It was easy. Domestic in a way that still surprised him.
Barbie scoffed suddenly, breaking the silence.
"You know what my landlord did today?" she muttered.
Moxxie hummed, already bracing himself. "I'm almost afraid to ask."
"Slid a notice under my door," she said, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Rent's going up again. Utilities too. And he had the nerve to phrase it like he was doin' me a favour by 'givin' me notice.'"
Moxxie's fingers stilled. "Again?"
"Mm-hmm." She laughed, but it was sharp around the edges. "Apparently independence costs extra this year."
She shifted, pressing her forehead briefly into his shoulder like she needed the contact but didn't want to admit it. "He hinted - real subtle- like - that if I fall behind, he's got 'other tenants' lined up. Translation: One bad month and I'm out."
"That's..." Moxxie frowned. "That's not legal."
"It's Hell," Barbie replied flatly. "Legal's more of a suggestion."
She sighed, long and heavy. "I'm just- I'm tired, Mox. Every place I land feels temporary. Like I'm always one screw up away from losin' it."
Moxxie tightened his around her without thinking. "You're not a screw-up."
She snorted softly. "You're biased."
"Extremely," he said. "But I'm also right."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The TV droned on, forgotten. Barbie's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, subtle, instinctive.
"Sometimes," she admitted quietly, "it feels like askin' for help means givin' something up. Like I gotta owe someone. Or worse - like I'm proving everyone right about me not bein' able to stand on my own."
Moxxie swallowed. He knew that fear intimately.
"You don't have to be miserable to be independent," he said gently. "And needin' support doesn't mean you've failed."
She tilted her head to look at him, eyes sharp but thoughtful. "You really believe that."
"I do," he said. "I had to learn it the hard way."
She studied him for a beat, then huffed and leaned back into his chest. "Figures you'd be annoyingly insightful about this."
He smiled faintly.
There was a pause - then, very carefully, Moxxie cleared his throat.
"...I mean," he added, trying - and failing to sound casual, "hypothetically speaking, if you did want someone... to talk to your landlord-"
Barbie immediately snorted.
"-I know a guy," Moxxie continued, warming to the idea despite himself. "Actually, I know two guys. One of them is very loud and has no concept of subtle intimidation."
She laughed then - real laughter, bright and surprised, her shoulders shaking as she turned to look at him.
"Oh my Lucifer. You're suggestin' Blitz threaten my landlord."
"I didn't say threaten," Moxxie protested. "I said... firmly explain the benefits of fair rent."
"With what," she grinned, "a knife and a business card?"
"...Possibly."
She laughed harder, pressing her forehead against his collarbone. "Absolutely not. No. I am not lettin' you and your feral boss terrorise some middle-aged demon over my lease."
"He deserves it," Moxxie muttered.
"I'm sure he does," she said fondly, then looked up at him, eyes warm. "But I appreciate the impulse."
She shifted closer, leg hooking over his, voice softer now. "Really. It's... nice knowin' you'd even think about that."
Moxxie flushed faintly. "Well. You matter."
That quieted her.
For a moment, she just rested there, listening to his heartbeat. Then sighed, long and thoughtful.
Moxxie nodded, careful not to push. "It's not glamorous. But it's steady. And Blitz actually pays on time. Shockingly."
She smirked. "That is impressive."
"No landlords," he added.
She laughed again, softer this time. "Damn. You really know how to sell murder-for-hire."
"I try."
She didn't answer right away - but she didn't pull away either. Instead, she nestled closer, fingers lacing with his.
"...I'll think about it," she murmured.
Working with Blitz meant staying in the aftermath of that night of words finally said, lines finally drawn - learning how to stand beside each other again without pretending nothing had broken.
Moxxie didn't rush her. He just held there, feeling the tension slowly leave her body, and wondered when offering stability had stopped feeling like control - and started feeling like care.
The idea of joining IMP resonated with Barbie.
Two nights later, Barbie stood in the Mox's kitchen, making a coffee for two of them.
"He raised it again," she said flatly. "Didn't even bother with a reason this time."
Moxxie sighed, already moving to stand beside her. "That's... the third time in two months."
"Fourth," she corrected. "But who's countin'."
She crumpled the paper in her hand, then hesitated - uncurled it, smoothed it out again like she hadn't quite decided what to do with the anger yet.
"... You meant what you said, didn't you," she asked quietly. "About IMP."
Moxxie didn't pretend not to know what she meant. "Yeah. I did."
She glanced him, expression guarded but searching. "I don't want charity."
"It's not," he said immediately. "It's work. dangerous, morally questionable work - but work."
He hesitated, then added, a little more dryly, "And... I've seen you fight."
Barbie arched a brow.
"The last time," Moxxie continued, "You came at me so fast I didn't even finish steadying my knife. You knocked it aside, forced me into hand-to hand, and nearly dislocated my shoulder."
"I had bruises for a week," he finished, nodding once. "So yes. I'm confident you'd very good at the job."
Barbie scoffed. "You say that like it's a compliment."
"It is," he replied, unfazed.
She studied him for a long moment, then looked away, jaw tightening. "I don't want special treatment either. Not 'cause I'm your girlfriend. And definitely not 'cause I'm Blitz's sister."
Moxxie nodded. "You wouldn't get it. Blitz barely knows how to give special treatment to Loona."
That earned a short huff of a laugh. "...Yeah. Fair."
Silence stretched again. Not tense. Just heavy with decision.
"...Okay," Barbie said finally. "I'll talk to him. One conversation. If it's weird, I'm out."
Moxxie's shoulders loosened like he'd been bracing without realising it. "Okay, I'll be right behind you."
The walk to IMP the next day felt... strange.
Not bad. Just significant.
Barbie kept her hands at her sides, posture loose but eyes sharp, like she was cataloguing every cracked brick and flickering sign as they passed. Moxxie noticed how her pace matched his without effort - until they reached the door. She slowed, fingers flexing, hesitation flashing across her face before she steadied herself and moved on.
The IMP lobby smelled exactly as it always did: gun oil baked into the floor, burnt coffee clinging stubbornly to the air, and the faint ozone tang of recently-used portals. Familiar. Chaotic. Home, in its own cursed way.
The door shut behind them.
And the room froze.
Loona was on the couch, feet up on the armrest, half-scrolling through newly-bought phone with one ear tilted lazily sideways -until she looked up.
Stolas stood near the front desk, mid-sentence to one in particular, tea cup hovering inches from his beak.
Both of them stared.
Barbie Wire.
Standing in the IMP lobby.
Hand in hand with Moxxie.
Loona blinked once. Then twice.
"...Well," she drawled slowly, ears lifting. "If this is a prank, I want credit for not screaming."
Stolas recovered first, straightening with graceful composure - though his eyes remained bright with curiosity. "Barbie," he said warmly. "It's... very good to see you again."
Barbie tilted her head, studying him. "Fancy bird," she replied, tone cautious but unfriendly. "Didn't expect the welcoming committee."
Loona smirked. "Yeah, sorry. Normally we get at least a five-minute warning before Blitz brings home emotional chaos."
Moxxie cleared his throat. "Hi. So. This might look surprising."
Loona snorted. "Buddy, you walked in holding hands with Blitz's sister. 'Surprising' doesn't cover it."
Moxxie squeezed her fingers once - subtle, grounding - before she let go.
"So," she said, glancing around the lobby. "Where's the clown king himself?"
Stolas smiled gently. "Blitz is in his office," he said, inclining his head toward the hallway. "You can go straight through."
They crossed the lobby together, the weight of Loona's and Stolas's stares following them all the way down the hall.
Barbie stopped outside Blitz's office.
"You've got this, Barb. I'm right behind you," Moxxie glance flicking towards Barbie.
He knocked.
A muffled, irritated voice from inside. "If this is about paperwork, I already said-"
Moxxie opened the door.
Blitz looked up from his desk mid-rant.
And froze.
His eyes landed on Barbie.
Blitz stared at her like the room had shifted an inch to the left without warning.
For a split second, the familiar snarl tried to surface - deflection, noise, something sharp to keep the moment from cutting too deep. It didn't quite make it.
"...Well," he said finally, leaning back in his chair, boots hooking on the edge of the desk. "If it isn't the family reunion I did not put on my calendar."
Barbie didn't rise to it. She stayed in the doorway, shoulders squared but hands tucked into her jacket pockets, like she was bracing herself for impact.
"Hey, Blitz," she said. Neutral. Careful.
The silence stretched.
Moxxie hovered just behind her, close enough that she could feel him there without him crowding her. When Blitz's eyes flicked to him - narrow, assessing - Moxxie straightened instinctively.
Blitz's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Then, "What the hell are you doing here?"
She hesitated - just a beat too long - then stepped fully inside, the door clicking shut behind them.
"I'm not here to start anything," Barbie said. "I'm just asking for a favour."
Blitz snorted. "Great. That narrows it down to, like, three disasters."
She shot him a look. "Can You not?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, jaw tightening. "...Tryin'."
Barbie shifted her weight. "I need work. Real work. And before you start - yeah, I know what this place is. I've seen worse."
Blitz's gaze sharpened. "You're not movin', are you?"
Moxxie coughed. "That's not-"
"No," Barbie said quickly, cutting in. "I've got my own place. Barely. That's kinda the point."
Blitz leaned forward, forearms braced on the desk. "So what, you wake up one day and decide murder-for-hire is your new side hustle?"
She shrugged. "Rent went up. Again Landlord's circlin' like a vulture. And I'm tried of barely scraping by on gigs that disappear the second someone decides I'm 'screw up."
Her voice didn't shake - but it wasn't hard, either Just honest.
"I know I can do this," she added.
Blitz laughed once, short and humourless. "Oh, I know you can fight. I remember Happy Campers. You came at Mox like a damn missile."
Moxxie winced as Barbie smirked despite herself.
Blitz sighed long and rough, dragging a hand down his face. "I just lost Millie."
The name settled heavy in the room.
"She wasn't just muscle," Blitz continued. "She was family. She heart. And now she's gone back to the farm, and I'm not replacin' her with the next sharp object that walks through my door."
Barbie stiffened. "I'm not tryin' to replace her. I'm trying to have a new start."
"I know." Blitz said. His voice softened despite himself. "That's what scares me."
Moxxie stepped forward then, careful. "Sir-"
"No," Blitz said, holding up a hand. "Let me finish."
He looked back at Barbie. Really looked at her.
"You're my sister," he said. "Not a hire. Not an asset. And if a mission goes bad - if you get hurt, or worse - that's on me."
Barbie swallowed hard.
"I'm not askin' you to protect me," she said quietly. "I'm askin' you to trust me."
Then Blitz scoffed, shaking his head. " You always did hate when I hovered."
"You hovered like a drunk helicopter," she shot back.
Moxxie blinked "...That feels accurate."
Blitz huffed a laugh despite himself, then leaned back again, fingers drumming against the desk.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Hypothetically. Say I let you try."
Barbie's eyes widened a fraction.
"Trial run," he continued. "no long-term promises. You screw up, you walk. You get in over your head, you tell me. And if you put anyone in danger-"
Moxxie paled.
"I will end you," Blitz finished flatly.
Barbie laughed. Actually laughed. "Fair."
Blitz glanced at Moxxie. "You vouching' for her?"
Moxxie didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir."
Barbie looked at him then, something soft flickered across her face before she masked it again.
Blitz sighed, long and theatrical. "Lucifer help me."
He stood, walked around the desk and stopped in front of her.
"You don't work for me," he said. "You work with us. Same rules. Same Risks."
She nodded once. "I can live with that."
Blitz stuck out his hand. "Welcome to IMP, Barb."
She stared at it for a heartbeat - then took it, grip firm.
And just like that, Barbie Wire joined IMP.
She turned out to be terrifyingly good at it - and that, more than anything, was what unsettled Blitz.
Because the way Barbie fought wasn't just efficient.
It was familiar.
Not loud like Millie's joyful chaos. Not precise in Moxxie's careful, calculated way. Barbie fought the way Blitz did when he wasn't performing - fast, instinctive, brutally aware of space and momentum. She closed distance aggressively, turned environments into weapons, and never hesitated once she committed.
Where Blitz relied on raw speed and improvised brutality, Barbie carried that same instinct but tempered it with control. She didn't burn everything down just because she could - she chose where to apply pressure. Where to end things quickly. Where to leave a message.
Watching her move through a target was like watching Blitz stripped of noise and bravado.
That was the problem.
The first time they worked a mission together - Blitz, Barbie and Moxxie - something clicked in a way Blitz hadn't expected and definitely hadn't prepared for.
Blitz went in reckless as always, drawing fire and attention with a grin and a middle finger. Barbie didn't scold him for it. Didn't try to rein him in. She used it. Slipped in through the gaps he created, took out threats before they ever realised Blitz was a distraction. When Blitz overextended, Barbie was already there - back-to-back without a word exchanged, covering angles like muscle memory guiding them both.
No shouting.
No arguing.
No power struggle.
Just seamless, ugly efficiency.
What surprised Blitz more was how comfortable it felt. Fighting alongside Barbie didn't feel like babysitting. Didn't feel like leading. It felt like running on parallel tracks - two fires feeding the same blaze without competing for oxygen.
Afterward, Blitz didn't say much. He never did. But he lingered longer than usual in the debrief room ,eyes tracking Barbie as she cleaned blood off her gloves like it was routine.
"I know she's capable," he muttered eventually more to himself than anyone else. "She's always been."
Where Blitz and Barbie were chaos in sync, Barbie and Moxxie were balance. She pushed forward; Moxxie stabilised. He planned; she adapted. When Blitz barrelled through problems, Moxxie refined them - and Barbie bridged the gap between the two effortlessly.
Blitz saw then, clear as Hellfire.
Barbie didn't replace Millie.
She didn't replace anyone.
She fit - into IMP, into the work, into Moxxie's orbit in a way that didn't leave fractures behind. And as much as it scared him, as much as it made old ghosts stir, Blitz couldn't deny the truth sitting heavy in his chest:
Barbie wasn't just good at this.
She belonged here.
And for the first time since Millie had left, Blitz realised IMP hadn't lost it edges.
It had changed.
And nowhere was that more obvious than in the quiet, unexpected way Barbie and Loona found each other.
It didn't happen all at once. There was no big bonding moment, no dramatic confession. It started small - shared cigarettes on the fire escape after missions, Loona wordlessly handing Barbie a bandage before she could ask, Barbie fixing the rip in Loona's skirt while Loona pretended not to notice.
Loona didn't trust easily. Barbie didn't push.
That was the trick.
Barbie treated Loona like she wasn't fragile, wasn't a problem to be solved - but also like someone worth keeping an eye on. She called her out when she was being cruel for sport. She backed her up when Blitz crossed a line. She listened without trying to fix anything.
Somewhere along the way, Loona started sitting closer to her on the couch. Started asking her questions - quiet ones, when Blitz wasn't around. About surviving bad homes. About leaving. About how you stayed angry without letting it rot you from the inside out.
Barbie never lied to her.
"You don't owe anyone a version of yourself that hurts less," she told her once, blunt and steady. "But you don't gotta bleed alone either."
Loona didn't respond.
She just leaned her head against Barbie's shoulder and stayed there.
Blitz noticed. He didn't comment. He just watched, something tight and relieved setting in his chest as he smiled.
Stolas adored her.
They became friends in the way only two people with too much history and too much taste could - gossiping, laughing, swapping stories over wine while Blitz pretended not to listen.
The double dates became inevitable.
The double date had been Stolas's idea - offered gently over tea one afternoon at IMP, voice light but eyes fond. "There's a restaurant I used to frequent," he'd said. "Before... everything. It's quiet. Elegant. And the food won't try to flirt with you."
Blitz had squinted. "That's a red flag."
Moxxie, however, had brightened immediately. "That sounds lovely."
Barbie had raised a brow. "Fancy fancy, or 'forks that judge you' fancy?"
Stolas smiled serenely. "Both."
The night of the date found Moxxie and Blitz standing outside the restaurant that looked aggressively refined - smooth stone, façade, warm golden lighting, and tall windows that hinted at candlelight and slow music inside. The kind of place where Hell's elite dined when they wanted to feel civilised.
Moxxie adjusted his jacket for the third time, nerves buzzing pleasantly in his chest.
Blitz stood beside him in an actual black suit - tailored, clean, no obnoxious accessories. Just sharp lines and restraint that looked... strange on him.
Moxxie glanced over. "...Sir?"
"Don't," Blitz muttered. "Loona said if I embarrassed Stolas in public again, she'd disown me."
"And the lack of sunglasses?"
Blitz huffed. "I'm allowed growth."
Before Moxxie could respond, Stolas and Barbie stepped out into view- laughing mid- conversation, shoulders nearly touching.
Moxxie stopped breathing.
Barbie wore a sleek, form-fitting black dress that hugged her frame with unapologetic confidence. The fabric was matte and elegant, cut high at the thigh, with delicate gold chains draped at her hips like jewellery meant to move when she did. The open back revealed subtle scars she no longer tired to hide. Her horns were polished, makeup sharp but refined - less combat-ready, more commanding.
She looked dangerous in a quiet, deliberate way.
Moxxie's face went instantly warm.
Blitz noticed.
"Oh no," he grinned. "Possum's buffering."
"Sir-!" Moxxie hissed.
Barbie caught his eye then, smile softening just for him, and Moxxie felt something in his chest settle into certainty.
Then Stolas stepped fully into the light.
Blitz froze.
Stolas wore a long, flowing black ensemble accented with gold - elegant lines, sheer fabric layered over solid, chains draped gracefully across his waist and hips like regal adornments rather than decoration. His feathers were groomed immaculately, eyes lined just enough to glow.
Blitz stared.
"...You absolute bastard," he muttered, cheeks heating. "You planned this."
Stolas preened shamelessly., a pleased little trill in his throat. "of course," he said smoothly. "I spent centuries being underappreciated in court. If I'm going to dine out now, I intend to be noticed."
Blitz scoffed, but his eyes flicked over Stolas again despite himself. "You didn't have to weaponize your entire existence."
Stolas smiled sweetly, leaning closer, voice dropping to a purr meant for Blitz alone. "darling, If I don't, you'll forget how breathtaking I am."
Blitz swallowed, scowling. "I do not." blushing heavily.
Moxxie recovered just enough to glance sideways. "You were saying, sir?"
Blitz flipped him off without looking away.
Barbie snorted. "Wow is this what foreplay looks like for royalty?"
Stolas laughed, delighted. "Only on special occasions."
Blitz muttered, "I'm surrounded by monsters," as his horn turned bright red.
Inside, the restaurant was hushed and warm - soft music, candlelight reflecting off crystal glasses, conversations carried in low tones. It felt worlds away from gun oil and burnt coffee.
Dinner unfolded slowly.
Barbie and Stolas chatted easily, leaning toward each other, trading stories of old Hell Politics, disastrous galas, and shared grief masked by humour. Somewhere along the way, they'd become friends - the kind built on understanding loss and choosing joy anyway.
Moxxie watched them with fond disbelief.
Blitz pretended not to notice how often his gaze lingered on both of them.
At one point, Barbie leaned toward Moxxie, voice warm and amused.
"You okay there, handsome?"
He swallowed, smiling shyly. "I just... can't believe this is real."
She reached under the table, squeezing his hand. "It is."
Blitz lifted his glass, squinting at the scene. "I hate how healthy this all looks."
He leaned closer to Stolas, lowering his voice with a crooked grin. "Which is why I'm very excited to get outta this place, go home and get you outta that dress."
Stolas nearly choked on his drink.
He recovered quickly - too quickly - straightening in his chair with all the dignity of a former prince who absolutely had not just his brain short-circuit. A warm flush crept beneath his feathers anyway, dusting his cheeks pink as his eyes flicked anywhere but Blitz's face.
"Blitz" he murmured, attempting composure and failing spectacularly when a grin slipped through. He cleared his throat. "You are... hopelessly inappropriate."
His voice dipped despite himself, softer, conspiratorial. "And for the record, this is not a dress."
A beat.
"...But I do suppose it is rather impractical to remove in public."
Blitz's grin widened, sharp and unapologetic.
"Is that a challenge?"
Before Stolas could gather himself enough to respond, Blitz straightened, glancing past Barbie and Moxxie as if the moment hadn't just crackled with intent.
"Hey I'm gonna use the restroom," he said casually, already stepping away from the table. "Be right back."
As he passed Stolas, Blitz slowed just enough to flick a wink - lazy, deliberate, unmistakably an invitation.
Stolas went red. Not a dignified flush, not a subtle one. A full, betrayed-by-his-own blood kind of red.
"I-excuse me," Stolas blurted, far too quickly, standing so abruptly his chair scraped the floor. "I should-ah- also attend to... something."
And then he was gone, following Blitz toward the bathrooms with all the composure of a man absolutely failing to pretend he wasn't.
Barbie watched them disappear, as Blitz and Stolas locked into a passionate making out session, falling through the restroom door, then burst into laughter, one hand covering her mouth.
"Oh My Lucifer," she snorted. "They're gone for the night, aren't they?"
Moxxie stared after them, frozen, horn burning. "They - They- haven't even ordered yet."
Barbie leaned in, her eyes flicked over him slowly, deliberately, then locked onto his with a look that pure invitation - confident, hungry and absolutely intentional.
"Mm... Tragic."
Moxxie swallowed hard, brain short-circuiting as heat rushed straight to his face. "B-but... our meal?" he said weakly, gesturing helplessly toward the untouched table. "We haven't even started dinner."
Barbie tilted her head, lips brushing close to his lips as she murmured, voice low and teasing. "I've got some dessert for you."
Moxxie made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak, face going impossibly red.
Then he moved.
Before Barbie could even finish laughing, Moxxie surged to his feet and scooped her up effortlessly, one arm under her knees, the other braced around her back. The sudden motion startled her just enough for her eyes to widen-
"Mox-!" she laughed, delighted, tail flicking in surprise as he turned sharply toward the exit.
"I-sorry-!" he blurted, already half-jogging, feet skidding slightly on the polished floor. "We- we can't stay!"
"You say that like I'm complainin'" Barbie teased, leaning closer, her voice warm against his face.
Patrons stared. A waiter shouted something about the reservation. Someone gasped.
Let's just say that the double date ended in a success for both couples.
Not because it followed any sort of plan but because it left everyone lighter, laughing and strangely sure that something good had taken root. The kind of night that didn't fix everything, but proved that things could work.
And it was that feeling - quiet, hopeful fragile - that carried into the next surprise.
The IMP lobby was in its usual state. Loona was sprawled on the couch, half-listening to music through one earbud. Blitz paced near the front desk, arguing with Stolas about absolutely nothing. Barbie leaned against the wall beside Moxxie, arms crossed, relaxed in a way that still felt new.
Moxxie, however, was vibrating with barely-contained anticipation.
He checked the time for the third time in two minutes.
Barbie noticed. "You're pacing with your eyes again," she teased. "Either someone's about to die, or you're hiding something."
"I'm not hiding," he said quickly - then winced. "Okay, maybe a little."
Before she could press him, the lobby door creaked open.
Bootsteps echoed in.
Millie stood in the doorway.
For half a second, the lobby froze.
Then -
"MILLIE?!"
Loona was off the couch in an instant, tackling her into a hug so hard it nearly knocked them both over. "WHAT THE HELL - You didn't say you were comin'!"
Millie laughed, bright and genuine, arms wrapping around Loona. "That's kinda the point, sugar."
Blitz was next, pulling her into a fierce, almost desperate hug. "You can't just show up like that," he muttered, voice rough. "That's illegal. Emotionally."
"Missed you too, boss," Millie said warmly.
Stolas followed, offering a gentler embrace in a way that spoke of pure relief. "You look... happy," he said softly.
"I am," Millie replied, and she truly was.
Finally, she turned to Moxxie.
They didn't rush it.
He stepped forward, smile soft, arms open - and she folded into him without hesitation. The hug was firm, familiar, grounding. Not romantic. Not painful. Just right.
"You did good," she murmured into his shoulder.
"So did you, I'm so glad to see you again." He replied quietly.
When she pulled back, her eyes shifted - curious, warm - to Barbie.
For a brief heartbeat, everything stilled.
Then Millie grinned and opened her arms. "C'mere."
Barbie blinked, surprised - then laughed and stepped into the hug, returning it just as tightly. "It's really good to finally meet you," she said.
"Same," Millie replied. "Anyone who makes Moxxie smile like that has my approval."
Moxxie flushed. Blitz gagged dramatically. Loona smirked.
And as Moxxie watched Millie fit so naturally back into the space, laughing with Loona, teasing Blitz, chatting easily with Stolas - and standing comfortably beside Barbie - he felt something settle in his chest.
Gratitude.
Things had changed.
And somehow... that was okay.