All Inclusive

If there's one thing they do well in strange parallel functions of the universe, it's milkshakes.

Elektra's taken to enjoying herself at the little restaurant at the end of the universe (not that she knows that's where she is, but it's a safe assumption) and it gives her a chance to get a feel for the lay of the land. It's odd, not being pushed towards an end goal and without a clear purpose in mind, but at the same time, it's daring and freeing and almost like she gets to start over.

That doesn't mean, of course, that all the old impulses are gone. She dreams about them and on the bad mornings, she finds herself a door that leads somewhere where she can exercise her demons, so to speak. She can't imagine that Matthew would approve, but it's hardly like the conquesting armies she'd joined had protested when more blood spilled for their cause.

And there's always the chocolate milkshakes to come back to. She's enjoying one now when she notices the dabs of dried blood on her palm, dipping her napkin into the water to dab it away when a shadow looms over her and alerts her of company she's known has been coming since they first started in her direction.

"Good," she says warmly, even though she knows it's not a waiter. She holds up her empty glass and gives her new friend a leonine smile. "I was just about ready for a refill."