Chapter Text
Most days, Agatha Harkness moved through the world with an unshakable certainty in her own invincibility.
She was untouchable and revered. Her life was meticulously constructed on a foundation of unyielding rules and hard won respect. No one dared to challenge her or chip away at the fortress she had built around herself through relentless hard work.
But today, the universe seemed determined to remind her that even the strongest walls could quake.
Agatha stared at the glossy hospital sign, Mayo Clinic , as sunlight glinted off its pristine lettering from the seat of her car. This was it. Her first day as Chief Neonatal Surgeon in a new city, far from the life she’d painstakingly constructed and subsequently watched crumble.
From the comfort of her car she couldn’t help but wonder how she had ended up here.
Agatha’s move had been less a choice and more a necessity, a bid for survival after the implosion of her carefully curated life. Her divorce had been a spectacular disaster, the kind that made even her closest friends recoil from the sheer wreckage of it all.
It started unraveling, slow and subtle. Her husband, Daniel, had always been charming; a literature professor with a disarming smile and a knack for storytelling that had captivated her years ago. But over time, his charm gave way to resentment. She worked long hours as one of the top neonatal surgeons in NYU and her ambition seemed to needle him in ways neither of them could articulate.
What began as arguments about late nights and missed dinners escalated into something darker. Daniel grew bitter, accusing her of valuing her career over their marriage, over him, over their kid.
The final blow came when she discovered the affair. It wasn’t the affair itself, she had long suspected something, but the brazenness of it. He had brought the woman, a graduate student barely older than their marriage into their home.
The divorce proceedings were venomous, with Daniel demanding a ludicrous settlement. claiming that her relentless dedication to her career had left him a lonely man raising their son Nicholas practically on his own. The custody battle was the worst of it. Agatha had always known she wasn’t the stereotypical mother, she couldn’t make school drop offs or bake cookies for fundraisers, but she loved her son fiercely. By the time the dust settled, Agatha had lost more than her marriage. She lost the brownstone they’d renovated together, the antique furniture she’d handpicked, and the city she had called home for over two decades. Staying in New York felt untenable; the reminders of her old life were everywhere, suffocating her.
In the end, she was granted joint custody, but the arrangement was fragile. Daniel made snide comments about her being too busy or distracted whenever he handed Nicholas over. Agatha felt like a guest in her own son’s life, her time with Nicky carved out of an already overburdened schedule.
The divorce had been finalized six months ago when the offer from Mayo Clinic came, it felt like a lifeline. Minnesota, with its sprawling landscapes and unfamiliar pace, was as far removed from Manhattan as she could imagine. It was a place to rebuild, to start over, not as the betrayed wife or the workaholic surgeon but as someone new. A new life for her and Nicky, a new beginning for them both.
The hospital loomed tall and sterile before her, a stark contrast to the historic urban hospital she had left behind. It reeked of new beginnings, with a tinge of antiseptic and unfamiliarity. Agatha adjusted her white coat, already tailored to perfection, and squared her shoulders.
Inside, the halls buzzed with the typical morning rush. Residents darted between patients, and nurses exchanged hurried updates. Her shoes clicked against the tile as she strode toward the neonatal unit, eyes forward, posture impeccable.
"Dr. Harkness?"
The voice startled her only slightly, and she turned to see a young woman in scrubs standing at attention. Her badge read Jennifer Kale R.N.
"Yes?" Agatha’s voice was even, her professional mask firmly in place.
"I’m the charge nurse for the NICU," Jennifer said, her tone bright but edged with nerves. "Dr. Calderu asked me to show you around before rounds”
“And why isn’t she here to welcome me?” She said
Jennifer stiffened at Agatha's sharp tone, the smile on her face faltering. "Dr. Calderu had an emergency to attend to," she explained, her voice faltering slightly under Agatha's scrutiny. "She asked me to show you around before rounds. She’ll see you after the rounds."
Agatha’s lips thinned as she stared at Jennifer, the weight of her gaze making the nurse shift uncomfortably. "I was led to believe the chief of surgery would be here to greet me, not a charge nurse." Her words were clipped, a hint of disdain slipping through.
“I— I understand,” Jennifer stammered, trying to regain composure. “Dr. Calderu is very busy, but I’m happy to show you around in the meantime.”
Agatha’s eyes narrowed, clearly dissatisfied with the situation. "Fine. But I expect this to be rectified immediately," she said, her voice cold, and turned her attention to the bustling NICU, her impatience palpable.
Jennifer nodded quickly, trying to remain calm. "Of course, Dr. Harkness. Please, follow me."
The tension lingered as Agatha followed, her expression still tight with annoyance.
"Very well," Agatha replied. She followed her through the labyrinth of hallways, mentally cataloging every turn and department. The NICU was spacious, lined with incubators and soft beeping monitors. It smelled of clean linens and faintly of hope, a smell Agatha had always associated with her work.
As Jennifer rattled off statistics about the unit’s capacity and recent successes, Agatha’s gaze fell on a young couple huddled near an incubator, their hands pressed to the glass. Their infant, impossibly small, stretched its delicate fingers as if testing the air. Agatha’s chest tightened, not with sentimentality, but with purpose. This was why she was here. This was what she excelled at.
The charge nurse’s voice broke through her thoughts. "I hope you’ll like it here, Dr. Harkness. We’re all excited to work with you."
"I don’t need them to like me," Agatha thought, her lips curving into a faint, polite smile. "I need them to keep up."
"Thank you, Nurse Kale," she said aloud, her tone clipped but not unkind. "I’ll be ready for rounds in fifteen minutes"
Jennifer nodded and scurried off, leaving Agatha alone in the middle of her new kingdom. She adjusted her coat again, letting her fingers briefly brush the amulet hidden beneath it, a habit she hadn’t yet broken.
This wasn’t the life she had envisioned years ago, but it was the life she had now. And for all its unknowns, there was one thing she could rely on: the work. The work had never betrayed her.
Agatha stood in the quiet of the hallway, her reflection flickering faintly on the polished glass of an observation window. The NICU buzzed softly behind her, the rhythmic hum of machines a steady backdrop to her thoughts. This wasn’t just a new chapter, it was an entirely new book, and she was determined to write it with precision, with control, with success as she always did.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, jolting her from her reverie. She pulled it out to see a photo of Nicholas, his gap-toothed grin filling the screen. He was holding up a crayon drawing of what looked like a dragon, its body a swirl of colors, with stick figures on either side. One labeled Me wore a green cape, and the other labeled Mom had impossibly tall hair and a tiny stethoscope.
Agatha couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Nicholas was four, with a boundless imagination and an uncanny ability to make her feel both invincible and utterly vulnerable. The divorce had hit him in ways she hadn’t fully anticipated. He’d gone from being a bubbly, chatty toddler to a child who sometimes stared out windows longer than she thought any four-year-old should.
The move to Minnesota was supposed to be a balm for both of them, a way to step out of the shadows of what they’d lost. But Agatha worried about him constantly. Would he settle into the new preschool? Make friends? Did he feel like she’d uprooted his life just as much as Daniel had fractured hers?
The message attached to the photo was from his nanny, Claire.
"First masterpiece in Minnesota! He said it’s you and him fighting a snow dragon. Drop-off went great this morning. He misses you already."
Agatha’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before typing back:
"Tell him I miss him too. And that the snow dragon doesn’t stand a chance."
She slipped the phone back into her pocket, her professional mask sliding effortlessly into place as she turned toward the door to the staff lounge. She couldn’t dwell. Nicholas needed her to succeed here, to prove this move wasn’t a mistake.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in the NICU, leading her first rounds. Nurses and residents flanked her, their expressions a mixture of awe and apprehension. Agatha’s reputation preceded her, and she could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on her like a heavy mantle.
Her gaze swept over the team, noting the subtle shifts in posture, the way some of the younger residents avoided eye contact, while others tried to mimic her calm, commanding presence. She thrived on this, on the sharpness of their gazes, the undercurrent of fear mixed with respect. It wasn’t just respect. It was awe. They feared her, and Agatha had always known how to make that fear work in her favor.
She reveled in the power it gave her, that ability to command a room, to make people see her as an unyielding force. It had taken years to build that reputation, but now, it was hers to wield. And as she moved from incubator to incubator, her eyes calculating, her voice crisp with authority, she felt a surge of satisfaction. They were watching. They were listening. And she would make sure they knew that she was the one in charge.
Agatha paused, glancing down at a small preemie in one of the incubators, her expression softening for just a moment. But it was only for a moment. She had a role to play, and that role was one of unwavering control. She straightened, turning to the resident closest to her. “Tell me about the baby’s progress,” she demanded, her voice cool and unwavering.
The young doctor stammered, fumbling through notes, but Agatha didn’t give him a second to recover. “Speak clearly. I expect more than a summary. I want details—actual data,” she snapped.
The resident quickly straightened, eyes wide. “Y-yes, Dr. Harkness. The baby’s heart rate is stable, but there’s concern about the oxygen levels—”
“Good,” Agatha cut him off, her voice already moving on to the next patient. “But it’s not enough. You’ll adjust the ventilator settings and start an arterial blood gas. Get it right.”
She moved swiftly through the rounds, her team scrambling to keep up, each word from her a razor-sharp instruction. They might fear her, but Agatha knew she was molding them into the team she needed. Every second, every decision was an opportunity to prove her expertise. And no one would question her authority, not now, not ever.
She moved from incubator to incubator, assessing charts, asking sharp, pointed questions. Occasionally, she glanced at the infants, tiny, fragile beings whose survival depended on her expertise and the team she now commanded. She felt the familiar surge of focus, the calm that came with knowing she was in her element.
As the rounds drew to a close, she could feel the shift in the room. The team had settled into a rhythm, their earlier nerves giving way to a kind of practiced obedience. Agatha’s presence was undeniable, her leadership absolute.
She turned to the last resident of the day, her gaze piercing. “I expect a full report on each of these cases by the end of the day,” she said, her voice as cold as ever. “And don't think I won’t know if you’ve missed something.” She paused, making sure they understood the weight of her words. “Now go. And do it right.”
With that, she turned on her heel, her back straight, her eyes scanning the rest of the NICU as she moved toward the exit. She was untouchable. They would learn quickly, Agatha Harkness didn’t make mistakes. And neither should they.
Later, as she sat in her new office, surrounded by stacks of unopened files and the faint glow of her computer screen, she looked at the photo of Nicholas again. The drawing of the snow dragon felt oddly prophetic. Life here would be a battle, a fight against uncertainty, against the lingering specter of her divorce, against her own self doubt.
But she didn’t back down from battles. Not in the operating room. Not in life.
And certainly not for her son.
Agatha straightened her desk, ensuring the papers and files were in precise order. Her first day had already been a whirlwind, and now she had her introductory meeting with the hospital's Surgical Chief, Dr. Lilia Calderu. She’d heard the name in passing during her career, an accomplished transplant surgeon, known for her bold techniques and her equal flair for hospital politics.
The sharp knock on her office door came just as she adjusted a framed photo of Nicholas on the corner of her desk.
"Come in," she called, her tone brisk but polite.
The door opened to reveal a short, broad shouldered woman with dark hair with silver at the temples. Her piercing hazel eyes took in the room as he stepped inside. She carried himself with the casual confidence of someone used to command, but there was a warmth in her expression that caught her off guard.
"Dr. Harkness," she said, extending a hand. "Lilia Calderu. Welcome to Mayo. I’m sorry I miss your arrival this morning, emergency surgery. You know how it is”
She stood and shook her hand, her grip firm. "Thank you, Dr. Calderu. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Lilia," she corrected, her smile easy. "Titles can get exhausting around here, don’t you think?"
Agatha resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. She had spent years in the highly hierarchical world of New York medicine, where first names were reserved for close colleagues or the rare moments of camaraderie. But Minnesota seemed intent on presenting a different way of doing things.
"Lilia, then," she said, allowing herself a small, polite and controlled smile.
"Please, sit with me" she said, gesturing toward the sofa that was on the corner of the office.
Agatha left her desk and took the seat carefully, her posture still impeccable despite the casual invitation. She crossed her legs, placing her hands neatly on her lap, and scanned the office with a practiced eye. It was sleek, well organized, but had a certain warmth to it that felt somewhat foreign to her.
Lilia Calderu took her seat across from her, folding her hands in front of her. “ Your reputation precedes you, and let me tell you, it’s not easy to impress the folks up in recruitment. I hope your first rounds went well,” she said with a smile, her tone warm but laced with curiosity.
Agatha didn’t allow herself to soften at the tone. Instead, she met her gaze with a level stare, her voice crisp. “They went as expected. There’s always a bit of... adjustment when stepping into a new environment. The residents are all over the place and I hope I can mold them to be better”
Lilia’s smile faltered for just a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and nodded thoughtfully. She studied Agatha, sensing the sharpness in her words, the drive that was both formidable and, perhaps, a little daunting. “I’m sure you will,” she said smoothly, her tone still warm but carrying a slight edge of caution. “The residents here are bright, but I understand the desire to shape them. Just remember, this environment thrives on collaboration, not command.”
“Of course.” Agatha’s response was clipped, the slight tension still lingering in the room. She wasn’t here for small talk, and she certainly wasn’t here to discuss her personal adjustment. But Lilia seemed content to maintain the friendly tone, her smile never wavering.
“So, how’s the team? They seem eager to have you on board,” Lilia remarked, leaning back in her chair slightly. “But I’m sure you’ve already noticed the culture shift here. Mayo has a reputation for being... collaborative.”
Agatha’s gaze flickered for a brief moment, then she straightened herself, meeting Lilia’s eyes again. “Collaborative?” she repeated, her tone carefully neutral. She had heard whispers about Mayo’s culture, about the idea of working together, sharing decisions, offering input. It was a world apart from the highly competitive, cutthroat environment she was used to.
Lilia’s smile softened slightly, as if she were aware of the challenge that this might present to Agatha. “Yes, collaborative. We believe in bringing together a diverse set of voices, pooling our expertise to ensure the best care for our patients. I’m sure it’s an adjustment, but I have no doubt you’ll thrive in this environment.”
Agatha’s fingers twitched, betraying a flicker of discomfort. She had always trusted her own instincts, her own decisions. The idea of relying on a collective group, of yielding to others in any way, made her uneasy.
“I’m used to running a team," she said, her voice steady but firm. “But I’m adaptable.”
Lilia’s smile widened just a little, sensing the undercurrent of tension. “Good. Because here, we value every opinion, whether it’s from a nurse, a resident, or a senior attending. No one is ever truly alone in their decisions.”
Agatha’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but she masked it quickly, nodding in acknowledgment. “Understood. I’ll do my part to integrate.”
Lilia sat up a little straighter, the conversation shifting as she took a breath. “I wanted to make sure we’re clear on expectations. I know you're here to make an immediate impact, and I want you to feel empowered to lead in your own way. But you should know that at Mayo, it's less about commanding and more about leading.”
Agatha’s lip twitched as she processed the words. Leading, not commanding. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She had led with precision and authority for so long, the idea of adapting to a more... nuanced style didn’t sit entirely well with her.
“I appreciate the clarification, Lilia,” she said slowly. “And I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lilia’s eyes glinted with something like understanding, though her smile remained warm. “I’m confident you will. But I also want to remind you that we’re all here for the same goal. The patients. We take pride in our ability to work as a team, no matter how different our approaches might be.”
Agatha held her gaze for a moment, considering her words. "I'll make sure to remember that," she said, her voice smooth and controlled. But in her mind, a quiet storm was already brewing. She was used to working alone, relying only on herself. The idea of balancing her control with the collective input of others was a challenge, but Agatha didn’t shy away from challenges. She’d find a way to make it work, on her terms. The she continue choosing her words carefully. "I appreciate the opportunity to lead the NICU team here. The work they’re doing is impressive, and I’m looking forward to helping elevate it even further."
Lilia leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment. "I like that. I’ve looked over your record, your success rates, your innovations in neonatal surgical procedures. It’s impressive, no question. But I also know you’re stepping into a team that’s been running a certain way for years. Change, even when it’s necessary, can be… complicated."
"I’m not here to make unnecessary changes," Agatha said evenly. "But I do believe there’s always room for improvement, and I’ve never been afraid to make adjustments when they’re in the best interest of the patients."
"Good," Lilia said with a nod. "And fair warning: there are a few strong personalities on your team. Don’t be surprised if you meet some resistance. But from what I hear, you’re not one to back down from a challenge."
Agatha allowed herself a genuine smile this time. "Challenges tend to bring out the best in me."
Lilia chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "I thought as much. And since we’re being candid, I’ll tell you this: I’m glad you’re here. We’ve needed someone with your drive and expertise in the NICU for a while. But if you ever feel like this place is… different from what you’re used to, don’t hesitate to let me know. Mayo has its quirks, but it grows on you."
"Thank you," she said, her tone softening slightly. "I’ll keep that in mind.”
"You know," she said, her tone lighter now, "it might be good for you to meet the rest of the surgical department sooner rather than later. We have a bit of a tradition around here, dinner with the surgeons and their teams every few months. A way to keep things collaborative and… human."
Agatha tilted her head slightly. "A dinner?"
Lilia smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Yes, and before you ask, no, it’s not mandatory, and yes, it can sometimes feel like herding cats. But it’s valuable."
She let out a soft chuckle despite herself.
Agatha's expression remained unreadable, her mind running through the potential benefits, or drawbacks, of such a gathering. She wasn’t fond of unnecessary socializing, especially when it took time away from work or her kid. But she also knew how these things worked. It was a small price to pay to maintain her position and further ingratiate herself into the Mayo culture.
“A dinner," Agatha repeated, her tone flat but inquisitive, as though trying to gauge what Lilia was truly asking of her.
Lilia's smile widened, as if she sensed Agatha's hesitation. "Yes. It’s informal, but it’s an opportunity to see your colleagues in a different light, outside the OR or the office. People get to relax, share ideas, talk about things that aren’t strictly related to the hospital. It’s about fostering a sense of unity."
Agatha’s gaze flickered with something akin to mild amusement. "Unity." She let the word linger in the air, as though testing its weight. “And this... tradition, is it meant to build trust, or just to ensure no one feels too isolated?”
Lilia leaned forward slightly, folding her hands together. "Both, in a way. Trust is built over time, and this is just one way to do it. I know it might seem trivial, but these moments have a way of making the team feel more cohesive. I’ve found it to be valuable, especially for those of us who tend to be… driven, like you." She paused, watching Agatha carefully. “You don’t have to attend if you’d rather not, but it could help you with the transition.”
Agatha’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly, but she kept her tone level. “I’m here to make an impact, not to participate in feel good rituals. I don’t see how dinner will change anything.”
Lilia’s eyes softened, but there was a quiet insistence in her voice. "I understand your focus, Agatha. Trust me, I do. But sometimes, how we build those impacts, how we work with others, can make all the difference in the long run. You’re not just leading the team; you’re becoming part of it. A dinner may be a small gesture, but it could go a long way in making sure you’re not seen as an outsider."
Agatha’s fingers twitched as she considered Lilia’s words. She had never been good at navigating the nuances of workplace culture, especially when it veered into the territory of forced camaraderie. But she also understood the politics at play. Building alliances, even subtly, could prove useful in the future.
She sighed inwardly, not giving any outward sign of her reluctance. "I’ll think about it," she said, her tone measured but polite.
Lilia grinned. "I’ll take that as a tentative yes. I’ll send you the details."
Lilia stood, smoothing her suit jacket as she extended her hand again. "I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’ve got a full schedule already. Just remember, my door’s always open."
She shook her hand, noting the firm but friendly grip. As she turned to leave, she glanced back.
"And, Dr. Harkness? You’ll do great here. I’ve got a good feeling about it."
As the door clicked shut behind her, Agatha sat back in her chair, exhaling slowly. The meeting had been a test, she knew, a way for Dr Calderu to gauge what kind of leader she would be. But if this was her first glimpse of how things worked in Minnesota, she was cautiously optimistic.
With a quick glance at the clock, Agatha stood up, smoothing down her lab coat. She had a few minutes before she had to leave to pick up Nicky from the daycare. The kid had been with a sitter for the last few hours, and she was itching to get home.
As Agatha stepped out of the hospital, the chill of the Minnesota air hit her, and she adjusted her coat against the breeze. The morning had been long, filled with meetings and patient rounds, but now she finally had a few minutes to herself. She was looking forward to a cup of coffee and a pastry for Nicky before heading to pick him up from daycare.
The familiar scent of roasting beans greeted her as she approached the small coffee shop just down the street. When she reached the entrance of the coffee shop, she paused to pull out her phone and check the time again. She didn’t have much, but a quick coffee and a pastry for Nicky wouldn’t take long.
But as she stepped back outside, coffee cup in hand, bam.
Something, someone, collided with her. The impact sent her stumbling back, and before she could process what was happening, her coffee was splashed all over the front of her lab coat.
"What the hell?" Agatha snapped, her body tensing as she surveyed the mess.
Then she saw her: a woman standing there, wide-eyed and apologetic, her hand raised as if to steady her. But it wasn’t the woman who caught Agatha’s attention, it was the small, scruffy dog tugging on a leash, practically weaving in and out of the woman’s legs.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” the woman said, voice casual, too casual for Agatha’s taste.
Her jaw clenched, her patience already running thin. She wasn’t in the mood for this. The coffee was ruined, her coat now a mess, and the last thing she needed was some random stranger acting like this was nothing.
“Are you fucking blind?” Agatha snapped, her voice cutting through the air, her eyes locking with the woman’s.
The woman blinked, clearly taken off guard by the venom in Agatha’s voice. “I— sorry, it’s just… he’s all over the place,” she said, glancing down at the dog, who was still yanking at the leash, oblivious to the situation.
Agatha wiped at her coat with a sharp huff, her irritation bubbling over. “Yeah, well, maybe you should get him under control,” she bit back, eyeing the woman now, sizing her up. She didn’t even care how the woman looked, disheveled, with dark hair falling haphazardly over her face, or the way she casually stood there like nothing had happened.
“Are you seriously blaming the dog?” the woman asked, her lips curving into a half-amused, half-annoyed smirk.
The audacity. Agatha’s patience was practically nonexistent now. “No,” she said, her voice low and cold, “I’m blaming the idiot who can’t manage their dog.” She stepped back, eyes narrowing. “It’s called being aware of your surroundings.”
The woman’s grin faltered for just a second, replaced by something else in her eyes, curiosity, maybe a little surprise. “Right. Sorry again,” she said, but there was a definite edge of condescension in her voice now.
Agatha let the silence stretch, feeling the tension hang between them like thick air. The woman’s calm indifference was infuriating, and Agatha was done tolerating it. “You know,” she said, voice sharp as a blade, “maybe next time you should actually look where you’re walking instead of just apologizing and moving on like nothing happened.”
The woman looked her up and down, that same bored expression on her face, but now there was something else in her eyes, a flicker of recognition, or perhaps amusement at how far this confrontation had escalated.
“Well, aren't we charming?” the woman said with a smirk, stepping back slightly, her dog still pulling at the leash, oblivious to the tension in the air.
Agatha’s gaze was icy, her fists clenched, fighting the urge to snap back. She wasn’t in the mood to entertain this woman’s casual disregard for basic decency. She had more important things to do than get into a pissing contest with a stranger over a spilled coffee.
Still, something about the woman’s smugness was making Agatha’s blood boil. She was about to turn on her heel, walk away, and forget about it when the woman spoke again.
“You know,” the woman said, her tone light, but there was a sharp edge creeping into her voice now, “maybe you should consider taking it down a notch. You’re the one who lost your coffee, not the end of the world.”
Agatha’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t lose my coffee, you spilled it.” The words were clipped, the bite in her voice unmistakable. She was done with this. Done with the woman’s casual attitude, her infuriating smirk, and the way she acted as if this was some small, insignificant incident when it had completely ruined Agatha’s moment of peace.
The woman’s smile flickered, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she glanced down at her dog, still happily tugging at the leash, and then back at Agatha, her expression unreadable.
“Well, I guess I’m sorry for your ruined coat, then,” she said with a half-shrug, her voice dripping with an almost sarcastic sweetness. “I didn’t realize a little coffee was such a big deal.”
Agatha could feel her blood start to boil again, but she controlled it, forcing her features to remain calm. “It’s not just coffee,” she replied, her voice cold, “It’s about being respectful of the people around you.”
The woman tilted her head, still not apologizing in any real way. Instead, she took a step back, as if the confrontation had long since lost its heat for her, her dog still tugging at the leash.
“Right,” she said, the words drawn out as if to emphasize the point. “Well, next time, I’ll make sure to step aside just for you. Wouldn't want to mess up your precious coat.”
There it was again, her tone. The casual dismissiveness that made Agatha want to explode. But she didn’t. She fought it, standing firm, glaring at the woman for a moment longer.
“You’ve got a real attitude problem,” Agatha muttered under her breath, turning on her heel and walking toward the entrance of the coffee shop.
The woman called after her, voice still too calm for Agatha’s liking. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a temper problem. Might want to work on that.”
Agatha didn’t bother responding. She didn’t need to waste another second on this woman. But as she stepped into the shop, her mind was racing, still tangled in the absurdity of the interaction. Something about that woman, her attitude, her unflappable calm, had dug under Agatha’s skin in a way that left her unsettled. But Agatha wasn’t the type to dwell on it. She had more important things to focus on. Or at least, she tried to convince herself of that as she moved to order another coffee, the memory of the woman and her irritating dog already beginning to fade, just slightly.