He stares at the screen.

"Hey, Nick? What's up?" Out of the corner of his vision she appears, a vague purple blur, but he barely registers it. So overwhelmed is he with panic, then with confusion, that he cannot comprehend what it is she says now. His mind is focused on the name on his screen – her, name, the name of the legendary prosecutor – oh, man…

The two could not be more different.

But there is a thought, a concern, which rises up from beneath the ashes of this confusion. A single clear sentence.

Why didn't she say?

This isn't like her – not like her at all. The real von Karma would have lashed out at him; he would have felt her whip marks across his ear, though she was goodness knows where. She would have called him a fool, at the least. Or a foolish fool. But this is so out of character – so unknown, so strange – that it appears to turn the entire universe upside down.

And suddenly he is not sure of himself.

"Nick? We going?"

He glances up – at his loyal companion, his one constant force in this strange turn of events; and he smiles, shakily. Everything is normal, after all.

He places the phone in his jacket pocket. Just in case.

"Yeah. We're going."