Saturday rubs the back of her neck, elaborately cool and calm in the face of the rage beating off Mackenzie like heat from a furnace. Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"That's a hard fucking thing. And it ain't my business, but we do seem to be stuck here, so like - this memory, I'm sayin', it's not something I'm unfamiliar with."

Something does flicker between them, then. Maggie and herself, two months and about five lifetimes ago, facing off - arguing, instead of having their minds of job - but Saturday's mind shies away from it, and it's gone.

"Goddamit."