Byron was silent as well, but not by dint of choice. His attention was on the details, both of Tristan and of the unfolding mission. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though he could burst forward to offer advice, and it wasn’t as though Tristan was going to let him out to offer input.

“What if he doesn’t show?” Tribute asked.

“Then we wait a bit longer, and then we go back, and we can tell ourselves that we tried,” Coiffure said.

“Trying isn’t good enough,” Tristan said.

“Sometimes trying is all we can do,” Moonsong said.

“It’s not good enough,” Tristan said, more intense now. Because it was Moonsong speaking? Byron had to wonder. Tristan seemed to rein himself in, and Byron could feel the intake of half of a breath, almost a snort as that breath cut short. Appearing to be calmer to everyone but Byron, who had that inside view, Tristan added, “The guy hurt Furcate. He hurt Reconciliation.”

Be a little bit less obvious if you don’t want to tell the whole team?

“And Long John and apparently Whipping Girl in Virginia,” Coiffure said, like she was trying to pacify. “I know.”

“He’s breaking the rules. I get it,” Figurehead said. “But we can’t blame ourselves if we don’t end up taking a non-opportunity.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Moonsong asked.

“I… guess I don’t?” Figurehead answered.

Tristan turned around to look at Moonsong, giving her a hard look.

She’s being clever, and that usually brings people closer together, yet Tristan thinks she’s betraying him, Byron thought.

“The shitheel is escalating,” Moonsong said. “This is crime 101. Worse incidents, with shorter times between each.”

“You’re talking all fancy, Moon, but I’m betting you learned that from a crime drama,” Coiffure said.

“It’s true, though,” Moonsong said. She met Tristan’s eyes. He looked away. She continued like it hadn’t happened, “He’s not just a lowlife scumbag who hurts good people. He’s hurting good people more and more as time goes on, and he’s going to escalate to the point where he kills.”

“Yeah,” Coiffure said. “Not disagreeing with you.”

“If he doesn’t show, he doesn’t show,” Figurehead said. “We can agree he needs to go to jail, but it doesn’t change the facts.”

Moonsong ventured, “I think what Capricorn is saying is that if the target doesn’t show, we should focus our energies on chasing him down.”

“Maybe,” Figurehead said. He looked at Tristan, who shut his eyes, leaving Byron to only detect the nod by the mechanics of muscles moving, the weighty sensation of fluids shifting across his brother’s head. “He needs to be dealt with, not arguing that.”