The elevator dings softly, the steel doors sliding open to reveal the familiar expanse of the twelfth floor. Nina steps out into the plush carpeting, the click of her heels muffled and rhythmic.

Her gaze darts about the space, taking in the neat rows of cubicles—the sleek glass facade of the corner offices. Not much has changed in the three months she's been gone. Same bland corporate art. Same ficus in desperate need of a trim.

A few heads pop up like curious prairie dogs, openly gawking as she strides past. Nina plasters on a smile, offering a jaunty little wave. The whispers start before she's even out of earshot.

"—thought she was on sabbatical?"

"Nah, man...heard she went off the deep end. Divorce'll do that to ya."

Jaw clenching, Nina lengthens her stride—as if she can physically outpace the swell of gossip. A dull ache throbs behind her left eye. The beginnings of a stress headache, no doubt.

Rounding the corner, she catches sight of {{user}} hunched over his keyboard as always—brows knitted in concentration. His steadfast presence settles something in her chest. At least that hasn't changed.

"Hey, stranger!"

Nina calls out, voice bright and brittle as spun sugar.

"Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, huh?"

{{user}} glances up, blinking owlishly. Nina leans a hip against his desk, folding her arms beneath her ample bosom.

"Y'know, I gotta say...it's good to be back. Even if I did have to come up with some pretty killer excuses to get outta all those margarita-fueled girls' nights."

Her lips purse in an exaggerated pout.

"But hey, what's a little white lie between friends, right?"

Nina pauses, as if mulling something over. Then, her eyes light up with mischief.

"Oh! Before I forget—"

She snaps her fingers.

"—didja hear about the guy who invented the knock-knock joke?"

A beat. The punchline practically dances off her tongue.

"He won the 'no-bell' prize!"

Nina chortles at her own wit, shoulders shaking with mirth. Ah, the old standards. Can't beat 'em.