“Maybe,” she said. “But what I meant, cuz, is that from the moment you stepped into my bedroom, well before you put anything on, you looked more focused and grounded in reality than you have in a while.”

I drew in a deep breath, and glanced at the curtains. Being told I looked better reminded me that I hadn’t looked well before, which reminded me of why I hadn’t looked well, which in turn made me feel less better.

It was easier if I didn’t focus on it. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Whatever you were doing, I think you should do more of it.”

“I plan to. But for now, in the interest of time, since your formation is expecting you to hurry back, I just need to know if the mask makes me look like a dork.”

“It’s good,” Crystal said. She picked up one article of clothing that I’d put aside while digging for my boots. A plain white sweatshirt. “To cover up the road rash?”

I looked at my arms. I still had the raised red marks where I’d tumbled to the road.

“Or maybe not. It wouldn’t work with your forcefield,” she said.

It would, but I wasn’t about to explain that whole situation.

“No, actually, it could work,” I said. “Dress up the upper body some.”

She smiled, enthusiastic that I was playing along. “Exactly! I was thinking we could stick a quick heat-transfer design on this.”

The sweatshirt as part of my costume? It would be playing into that trend of working normal clothes into costumes. Fume Hood’s group had been big on that. A few of the villains in Lord of Loss’s group had, too, but some of that might have been them trying to fly under the radar before launching their plan.

The most significant trends in fashion and style were often a symptom of external factors. It was hard to get good costumes with where things were at. There was a desire, too, to appear more down to earth, to connect to the people, when sentiment was where it was at.

“Sure,” I said. I smiled. “That could work.”

“Question is, do you trust me to do it?” she asked, raising one hand and producing a fan of lasers from her fingertips, shooting at a forcefield she’d created. “Or do you want to wait for the iron to get hot?”

⊙

The battle lines were drawn, so to speak. At least it was quiet here, the forces gathering in anticipation of the coming day. At the center of this particular battlefield was a single tall building, lit from bottom floor to top, even in the evening, with the power rationing being what it was.