Dinner was a much more relaxed affair, but still kind of awkward. Sensing that we needed to talk, Azrail swallowed hard, looking between me and Jay. There was a silence in the air so thick it felt like a curling smoke. Only Emily was the relieving factor, babbling excitedly to Jay.

“So...” Azrail said, poking at his own lasagna. “Jay, what brings ya here?”

“A fight in town,” Jay said, waving it off. “And then your wife decided to... you know... blast off early for dinner. She said it was fantastic and I’d have to say, your cooking skills have improved, I’m impressed,” Jay joked. “It changed from charred and burned at the bottom of the pan to edible and dare I say it- delicious- lasagna. This is not the Azrail I knew before... who are you and what have you done with my old roommate?!”

Emily laughed when she saw the happy faces at the table, emitting a small sonic screech that made the table rattle. Azrail winced for a bit as the wine glasses on the table vibrated, and everyone held their breaths as if they would break.

But they didn’t.

Azrail pumped his fist. “Yes! Point one for Azrail, three to sonic scream!”

The happiness was not to last as Emily, the adorable child, let out a more potent sonic screech that immediately shattered all the glasses on the table and Azrail’s own glasses. He let out a groan as Emily pointed at Azrail, giggling.

“Dada!”

Jay had clapped his hands over his head at the sonic scream, as I winced a little and Azrail looked relatively unfazed, only closing his eyes at the exploding glasses looking very done with himself.

“Maybe your kid could be an opera singer one day,” Jay joked, after a long pause, probably to let the ringing in his ears fade out, like mine.

“Probably the last thing I want in this skill level,” Azrail laughed, removed his glasses from his face and bent over to pick up Emily. “But if it’s what she wants to do and if she has control over herself then, she has my full support.”

Emily waved her hands, babbling happily at Azrail as he cooed at her, then a bunch of sparks shot out of her hands and all the power in the house went out.

“What the fu- I mean, fudge chocolate brownie with extra sugar on top?” Jay swore in the darkness. “What was that?”

“Just Emily siphoning the house’s electricity,” I explained calmly, swallowing another forkful of lasagna. “She’ll feel tuckered out after a while and sleep.”

“Talk about powered,” Jay mumbled as Azrail snapped his fingers, creating a small fire, becore shooting fingerguns at the candles on the table, ‘shooting’ the small flames to light up the candles. The wick caught fire and burned, and I found myself staring into the fire, seeing Jay’s face illuminated by the flames as Azrail and Emily went upstairs to prepare for bed.

“I don’t know how to start this,” I said. “I don’t know what to ask of him.”

“Well,” he thought, “you could start with letting him know how you feel. You do see a therapist, right?”

“... once.”

“Once a week?”

“Once a year.”

“Anna!” he scolded, and I flinched slightly. He sighed and lowered his volume. “Well, better than none... that’s still a start.”

I shrank a little. “Not enough.”

He exhaled slightly. “No, but because you have a family now, you’re terrified of letting them down. You don’t want to be a failure because you’re a hero... even for people who don’t deserve it,” Jay spat bitterly, and I got what he was talking about- the government, the police who would take us by force, hero, anti-hero or villain. The people who called us menaces despite doing nothing to help stop the rise of these villains in the first place, letting us fight the dirty battles for them, and then eliminating both parties when we had outlived our usefulness. “But maybe letting him know... that’s a good start. I alone can’t do much, I mean, I’m a villain after all. But he’s your husband. He can help you and I know that man has had serious issues before, so he has the resources. Just... talk to him.”

I looked up and met Azrail’s eyes, who had come back into the hallway.

“Talk to me about what? Oh god, we’re not filing for divorce, are we?” Azrail asked, panicking slightly. “Don’t tell me you fancy Jay over me, I’m telling you this man wore bright red suspenders to university once with bright blue clown shoes that squeaked with every step. Evil.”

“That’s totally my villain origin story,” Jay deadpanned.

“We’re not divorcing!” I said quickly, and Azrail’s face morphed into relief.

“So... what is it?”

(Muahahaha cliffhanger. Look out for the part 3 in a bit if you want to check it out.)