"Deal." It's an easy scoff, exhaled with a shrug of her shoulders and the open offer of an outstretched hand to secure their arrangement, lip curling upwards at the corner as the lights around them come flickering back to life— almost as if sensing the easing slack of their truce. She could do worse, after all.

Granted, not much worse, but still...

"Shame we don't have any tequila to drink to this."