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The day after her conversation with Priscilla Divine, Colby Jefferson is unusually serious. She doesn't take a drink in the morning, or any other time, and she pushes herself with cardio and free weights until her lungs burn with screaming agony and her muscles feel like molten lead. The servants at the Divine Mansion are a bit surprised at her meal requests of steamed veggies, grilled chicken or beef, and a fruit salad, having grown accustomed to Colby's taste for mid-Southern comfort food.
She lets her pretty dresses hang unused in the closet, and buys several simple tops and sets of tactical pants. She feels ridiculous, like she's dressing as some sort of paramilitary weirdo like C.A.M.O., but at least with these clothes, she is combat-ready at all times. The tactical pants also have pockets for brass knuckles, metal spikes, or pepper spray, and she has all three. Colby Jefferson can't command a fighter jet, or have explosives delivered to her enemies, and buying a handgun is still a bridge too far and a level to which she's not willing to escalate, but she's not going out defenseless anymore.
Amy has been scarce lately, working on something of her own, but Colby senses that she's still hurting after the events of the birthday party. Writing a note to Sola has reminded Colby of the strength and sincerity of the hand-written word, and so with her usual immaculate handwriting she leaves a note on Amy's dresser, by the things she always uses often:
>I know this has been hard on you. Never forget that we're a team, in life and in the ring, and whenever you tag me in, I'll fight as hard as I can for both of us. And if you ever stop believing in yourself, then at least please believe that I still believe in you. I always do. I always will. --CJ
