"Hey, you know how I sometimes go into a trance and have visions of the future and stuff?" On her back on the couch, Martine kept reading. "No."

"It's totally a thing," Donnie said. "And I just had the weirdest vision." He waited, but Martine didn't ask what it was. "Everything else was exactly like it is now, except you were getting me a soda."

"Yeah? What kind?" Her voice was flat.

"Pepsi, with three ice cubes."

"How disturbingly accurate." Martine set down her book.

"I know, right? Well, just let me know when you're getting that soda."

"No, not that bullshit. My vision of you acting like a dick, just like this." Donnie snorted. "Of course, my vision kept going."

"What came next?" Donnie asked.

"Mysterious agents knocking on the door."

"What a load of—" Donnie stopped when someone knocked on the door.

"Which is why I prepped this." Martine reached under the couch and tossed something to Donnie, who looked up at her with wide eyes when he realized he was holding a revolver.

"What the fuck, Martine!"

"You'd rather let them dissect me? Let's go." She rolled off the couch into a crouch. "We're taking the window."