Tess ponders what it might be like to work for anyone who might tell her who to fuck, and she comes out of the thought cold. Wouldn't fly. Wouldn't work for longer than a minute.

She finishes rinsing her hair and turns off the water again, stepping out to grab her towel and wrap it around herself.

"There's always a loser," Tess remarks, truthfully. "But maybe that's just me. When I'm working, I want every head in the room to turn and look for what my call is."