Daylight falls into Osiris's workshop from its high windows. Saint-14 has a habit of opening them to let in fresh air. Then Osiris shuts them. Then Saint opens them again.

Peach spends her time well within City limits these days. She's watched this domestic routine play out plenty of times from the outside. It's a solid comedy routine even at a distance!

Now she'd like to see it close up. She slips through the window and floats on down.

There's a glowing green string stretched between Osiris's hands. A little row of delicate, blue icicles is slowly forming along it. Like Ikora Rey's Dawning decorations on a miniature scale.

Peach drops further down, until she's at Osiris's shoulder.

The ice cracks. The string snaps. Osiris sighs.

Peach can't help herself. "Aw, you'll get it next time."

Osiris waves a hand like he's trying to brush away a butterfly, then spins around in a sharp convulsive motion. "You're not—who are you?!"

He's gone almost the same color as his bandana. It doesn't look great!

"Are you having a heart attack? Do I need to get someone?" Peach doesn't know first aid. It's never come up.

"No! Who are you? How did you get in?"

"I'm Peach," Peach says. She adds generously, "I'm famous; you can look me up. If you're not having a heart attack, can I watch you play with Darkness?"

"Why?"

Because lately, Peach keeps thinking about all the things that can happen to a Ghost out in the world, all the powers she can't do anything about. But that's no fun.

"Academic curiosity?"

"No. Get out." Osiris points to the closed door.

"All right, be like that," Peach says, and blinks out of the visible spectrum.

No need to show Osiris how she got in, not when she means to come back later.

This is the start of something beautiful. Or at least entertaining.