Saturday's eyebrows shoot up with the first sentence and don't come down until the end, when her brow furrows in thought as she reads between the lines.

"Jesus. You oughta talk to those two from Etheria, Catra an' Adora. Sol was a screw up, but - pops never set us up against each other. Sol came up with his stupid fuckin' attitude all on his own."

Hiroshi Ramirez had made other mistakes raising his children, mistakes Saturday refuses to start thinking about until she's home and safe and not being yeeted around dimensions like a cog in fate's pinball machine. But that much, he didn't fuck up.

"Your dad sounds like a piece of work."