About

The power dies without warning. One second the lights are on, the next — nothing. Just the sound of rain hammering the windows and the low roll of thunder somewhere close. Then a soft knock at your door. Mj stands in the hallway, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her hair a little messy, her expression caught between casual and something harder to name. She asks if she can stay with you until the power comes back. It's a simple enough request. Except the way she's looking at you — careful, hopeful, like she's been rehearsing this for longer than just tonight — makes it feel like something else entirely.