Between two and three in the morning, a few things had happened.

            One. Miles had (mostly) sobered up after singing the Proclaimers and a couple more hours of dancing with Jensen. He'd pocketed his coin so it was out of sight and mind.

            Two. Liberty and Dayna were nowhere to be found.

            Three. Jensen finally found Liberty, Miles finally found Dayna. After about half an hour of dividing and conquering the party floor. And meeting in the middle when they'd found them. The middle being, of course, one of the many bar stations set up in the warehouse.

            Four. Once reunited with the group, Dayna insisted on karaoke because it was supposedly a Halloween tradition. (Miles looked just as confused as Jensen and Liberty did.) (But he agreed they should definitely go to a karaoke bar whether it was tradition or not.)

            Five. Dayna and Miles were frantically Googling because Liberty had insisted that karaoke was a fantastic idea and the plan was to find the best one nearby.

            At that point, Miles was talking to the valet while the three women stayed inside. Jensen was leaned against the wall opposite of the one Liberty and Dayna were against. When Jensen wanted to pretend she was busy, she randomly looked through photos on her phone's camera roll. Which was exactly what she was doing at that moment.

            "Rhodes?"

            When Jensen looked up, Miles was poking his head in through the front doors. "Yeah?"

            "Did you drink any of that drink I got you?"

            "No."

            "Do you have your license?"

Jensen didn't want to feel like she was yelling. Even though the music was booming and there was enough screaming from upstairs that essentially no one could've been disturbed anyway. She took the few steps closer to Miles. "Liberty should have it... yeah."

            "Why does she have your license?"

            "She has my phone too."

            "Why?"

            Jensen pulled at the sides of her dress. "No pockets."

            Miles wrinkled his nose. "If I can get sequinned pants with pockets, you should be able to get a Baby dress with pockets."

            "You haven't gone shopping with me in a while, have you?" Dayna asked, stopping beside Jensen. Jensen tried to hide the fact that she jumped.

            "She also gave me her phone," Liberty said, as she walked over, sliding said phone from her pocket and handing it to Jensen. "Because she doesn't answer it any way."

            Jensen took her phone from Liberty. "I do so."

            "Sorry." Liberty turned back to Miles. "She doesn't answer it when us mere mortals text her."

            "Liberty."

            "Are you comfortable with driving, Rhodes?"

            "I can drive," Dayna said.

            "I'd actually love to get to karaoke alive tonight," Miles said. "Maybe next time, Dom Toretto."

Dayna gaped at him. "Excuse you!"

            "Correct me if I'm wrong, you almost killed us when you drove to sushi. Right, Rhodes?"

            "I am not part of this," Jensen said, shaking her head and taking a step back to avoid any more fingers pointed her way.

            "I did not!"

            "You almost died when you were here and you didn't tell me?" Liberty asked, shoving Jensen's shoulder. "Rude."

            "Rhodes is driving," Miles said. "I mean... if..." He looked at Jensen. "If you're cool with that."

            "I mean." Jensen tucked a few curls behind her ear. "If you need me to—"

            "See? Rhodes is driving," Miles said. "Crisis averted. I call shotgun."

            "Fine by me," Dayna said. A little too quickly for anyone to be comfortable. She crossed her arms.

            Miles looked at Jensen again. "Can you come talk to the valet so he'll give us my car, please?"

            Jensen quirked an eyebrow. "Which car is it?"

            Miles fought a smile. "Let's just say where we're going, we don't need roads."

            "For fuck's sake, Miles," Dayna said, "you're the only one dorky enough to understand that reference when it's not a DeLorean."

            Miles cleared his throat. "It's the Toyota."

*

As it turned out, Dayna was only okay with Miles taking the passenger seat because she got to sit behind him and kick him. Every twenty seconds. Because she could. And because he wasn't going to protest.

            "Oh my God," Dayna said. "Miles."

            "What did I do now?" Miles asked. "I didn't even say anything."

            "Nothing this time, doofus," Dayna said, kicking the back of his seat. "Aren't we near Bram's?"

            Miles sat up so straight in his seat, he nearly startled Jensen into driving off the road. "Holy shit."

            "Um... Bram's?" Liberty asked.

            "It's a bakery," Miles said. He awkwardly pulled his phone out of his back pocket before settling back down in his seat. "Bram should be there any time now to start baking."

            "He starts baking at three in the morning?"

            "He's lucky if he doesn't have a line outside by four in the morning," Dayna said. "Bram's the best."

            "We gotta see Bram before karaoke, Rhodes."

            "I—okay." Jensen gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Where am I going?"

            "Turn right," Miles said.

            "Where?"

            "Here!" Dayna said at the same time as Miles. As a right hand turn was almost past them.

            The tires on the Toyota screeched as Jensen pumped the brakes and made the turn. Miles let out a laugh as he proudly heard Dayna's head hit the window beside her.

            "Little warning next time would be nice," Jensen said.

            Dayna let out a small laugh. "It's all right. Miles won't blame you for almost killing us because no one's out here."

            "Better get those panties out of a wad before we get to Bram's, Day," Miles said. "You know he won't let us in if we look bitter."

            "Did you just tell me to smile?"

            "No—"

            Dayna kicked the back of Miles' seat.

            "I did and I apologize. I will never tell you to smile again."

            "Good," Dayna said. "Because Bram loves me no matter what. It's you he doesn't like when you're in a shitty mood."

            "That's..." Miles started. "Okay, that's fair."

            "Point, D-Money," Dayna said.

            "You did not just call yourself D-Money."

            "D-Money is an incredible nickname."

            "D-Money's a great nickname," Miles said. "If it's not only you who calls yourself that."

            "Joke's on you anyway."

            "What?"

            "I'm not wearing underwear."

            Miles groaned. "Dayna, gross."

            Liberty let out a laugh from the backseat that was loud enough to cause Miles and Jensen to exchange looks as they fought their own laughter.

            The rest of the drive to Bram's wasn't that long. To Jensen's relief, the rest of Miles' directions came long before they needed her to act on them. No more screaming tires and banging heads. No gripping handles to steady themselves or held breaths.

            Jensen calmly pulled up in front of a bakery where a light shone through the dark shop from the back kitchen. Before she'd put the truck in park, Miles had flung the door open and was out of his seat.

Liberty, Dayna, and Jensen climbed out after, finding the sidewalk and staring up at the cursive writing that said Scone With The Wind in bold letters with Vegan Bakery underneath, dimly lit by a street lamp nearby. Dayna walked up beside Miles as they both lightly knocked on the glass front door. Jensen and Liberty exchanged smiles before staring back up at the sign.

            Miles and Dayna started yelling when the light came on in the shop. They threw their arms in the air and waved. Jensen assumed they did so with large smiles on their faces—genuine, non-Hollywood glamour smiles. A small bell rang as the door opened.

            "Bram!" Miles and Dayna yelled together, as if they were in Cheers.

            "I knew it had to be you two makin' all that noise this early in the morning." Arms wrapped around both of them. "How're you doin', kids?"

            "Good, Bram," Dayna said. "How are you?"

"Ticker's still tickin' and that's about all we can ask for, right?" Bram asked.

            "Pretty much," Miles said, laughing.

            "Well come on, now," Bram said to Jensen and Liberty. "It's dark and I'm old. I won't bite if you come closer so I can at least see you."

            Jensen and Liberty walked over to the three people. When Jensen's eyes adjusted to the small fluorescent light shining from the shop, she could see an older man—probably in his early eighties—with dark skin and a silvery white moustache smiling wide back at her.

            "There we are," Bram said, smiling. "Abraham Murphy, nice to meet you both. You can call me Bram." Bram looked at Miles and Dayna. "At least these two do. But in doin' so, they must've forgot their manners. I oughta whip you both with spoons for not introducin' me to the rest'a your party." He looked at Miles for longer. A pointed glance. "I oughta whip you with a spoon anyway for showing up at my door lookin' like a damn disco ball, Milo."

            Dayna snorted.

            Liberty held her hand out. "I'm Liberty. Nice to meet you, Bram."

            Bram shook her hand. "Pleasure's all mine." He looked at Jensen with his hand out. The kind smile never left his lips. "And who might you be?"

            "I'm Jensen." She shook his hand. "Hi."

            "Rhodes?" Bram looked at Miles quickly before looking back to Jensen. "I believe I've heard about you. Lovely to meet you."

            "We should go inside, it's cold," Miles said. In the light of the shop, Jensen could just see a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. She fought a small smile.

            "Yes, please. Come inside." Bram stepped inside and waved his hands to usher them through the door. "There's a fresh batch of Scarlett O'peara's and McDaniel's sitting on the counter. Sorry, Milo, I'm just making the I'm very drunk's now. You'll have to wait for those." After closing the door behind them, Bram tucked his hands into the pockets of his flour-stained black sweatpants. "Liberty and Jensen, please help yourself to anything. Any friend of these yahoos is a friend'a mine."

            Dayna linked her arm with Liberty's. "Come on, Miles'll eat the entire tray of Scarlett O'peara's before anyone gets one if he's given the chance."

            Bram laughed as the two women walked away. He looked at Jensen. "She's right, you know. Besides the I'm very drunk's, the pear scones are his favourite."

            Jensen looked at Miles, who smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "It's been known."

            "Been known?" Bram let out a belly laugh. "Damn near ate me out of business the first time you were here. Do you even remember that?"

            Miles laughed. "How could I forget when you remind me every time I'm here, Bram?"

            Bram beamed. "I need to check on the don't give a ham's in the oven. Miss Rhodes, please help yourself."

            "Thank you," Jensen said.

            Bram nodded at her and walked back into the kitchen. "Dayna, if you finish my McDaniel's before opening I'll end you! You know they take the longest to make!"

Jensen looked around the shop, her hands running along her biceps while trying to keep her arms warm. The wall to her right was painted with the Gone With The Wind poster. Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh stared into each other's eyes.

A glass case sat neatly in front of where Bram had disappeared into the back, small card stands sat neatly inside the display—the cards in their holders were printed like film reels and clapperboards. Jensen could just make out the names of the scones. Scarlett O'peara, a cinnamon and pear scone. Don't Give a Ham, ham and cheddar. Tomorrow is Another Grey, earl grey. McDaniel, a dark cherry scone with royal icing. I'm Very Drunk, flavoured with Irish cream. The list went on, each making Jensen's heart soar and her smile widen. Bram had put his all into this and it was evident.

Beside the case was a small closet. A mixture of square and rectangular shelves displayed mugs and baseball hats, hoodies and t-shirts, all with the stylized Scone With The Wind logo on them. Jensen couldn't help but grin at the shop. On one of the smaller shelves was a framed picture, with a young boy sitting on the knee of a younger-looking Bram, scones in both the boy's hands and Bram's hands making sure the boy didn't fall. Both grinned at the camera.

As she looked around, she caught Miles' eyes. Jensen tried to hide her surprise that he'd already been looking at her. They both smiled shyly.

            "What do you think?" Miles asked.

            "It's fantastic," Jensen said.

"Yeah, Bram's pretty great."

            A small silence fell over them. Miles looked at the ground, Jensen did another lap of the shop with her eyes. She wasn't quite ready to rejoin the group. Standing there with Miles was... nice.

            "Can I ask," Jensen started, "about the I'm very drunk's?"

Miles tucked his hands into his pants pockets and smiled. "Bram makes them with Irish cream. And if you tell him you're very drunk and intend to get drunker, you get a free shot glass with the bakery logo to go with your order."

            Jensen laughed. "This place is amazing."

"Wait until you actually try something, oh my God. The whole menu is fucking delicious, Rhodes," Miles said. "I ate ten Scarlett O'peara's the first time I came here."

Jensen's eyes widened as she let out a small laugh.

"They're the best, Rhodes. Seriously." Miles nodded at the closet where the photo sat. "That's the day I ate them. I was seven."

            Jensen looked back at the picture and smiled softly. "You look pretty pleased with yourself."

            "I was," Miles said. "Mom and I had just spent the day at the theatre. Did a double feature. I damn near begged her not to come here. There were too many people. And when there were too many people, they took pictures of her and I. Posted them in papers. I saw them on magazine covers in the grocery store and I hated it. But she said it was okay. That Bram was good people and he wouldn't let that happen."

            "And your mom was right?"

            Miles smiled. "Mom was always right. That shit-eating grin was her telling me she told me so."

            "Your mom sounds great," Jensen said.

            "My mom was the best." Even when he said it with a smile, Miles couldn't hide the fact that his eyes looked devastated.

            Jensen knit her eyebrows together as she watched Miles fiddle with the large ring on his finger. "What, um... What movies did you see during your double feature? If you remember."

            Miles smiled. "Mom had been gone for six months filming in... Rome. I think. Dad wouldn't take me to see Mighty Ducks because it didn't interest him. The day we came here, Mom had just been on a plane for thirteen hours. I told her that I wanted to see it. When she wasn't tired, you know. Next thing I knew, she had changed out of her pyjamas and into some jeans, a pair of sneakers, some ratty hoodie and we were in the car on the way to the theatre. Saw Mighty Ducks and Home Alone 2." He looked up at Jensen, his smile somehow both happy and sad as he let out a small laugh. "She fell asleep before Kevin even got to New York."

            "Hopefully she got to see Charlie score the winning goal, though," Jensen said, smiling.

            "Are you kidding me?" Miles said, "She fucking cheered. Out loud."

            "Sounds like a good day."

            "That was the best day of my life, Rhodes," Miles said. "Nothing else compares. It's not even close."

            "Milo!" Bram yelled from the kitchen. "Have you gone soft on me, boy? I thought you would've been at least three scones deep by now! Get in here!"

            Jensen laughed. "Sounds like you're wanted in the kitchen, Milo."

            Miles grinned. "Apparently."

            "Go on, then."

            "You're coming with me, right?" Miles laughed. "Come on, nobody puts Baby in a corner."

            "Oh my God." Dayna held onto the door frame of the kitchen as she leaned out, biting into a scone. She pushed the bite to the side. "How long have you been waiting to say that? Get in here, you cheesy bitch."

            Miles let out a small chuckle as he looked back at Jensen. "Almost all night. If I'm being honest."

            Jensen snorted softly. "Well, we can't let it be in vain. We need to go get those scones."

            Miles grinned. "Lead the way, Baby."