Snow fell lazily around us, but the vehicles on the road and their hot exhaust were generating just enough heat to keep the streets wet but clear snow and ice. The sidewalks where pedestrians weren’t active were getting covered by a layer that sat just over top of the ice that lingered from the on-and-off freezing rain of the past two days, adding to its slickness. Sveta’s hair, my hair, and our coats were dusted with snowflakes.

“Sveta,” I said, giving my friend a careful look, trying to think of how I could diplomatically phrase my response, “You have better lines than most people I know, and most people I know are superheroes. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“With you,” she said. “Sorry. I don’t know when to stop myself or when to keep going, because I haven’t had a lot of friends over the years. I’m not good with friend dilemmas.”

“Ah,” I said. I paused. “I didn’t want to put you in the middle of a dilemma. Whatever it is.”

Sveta squeezed my arm. She was leaning on me for balance, as her body wasn’t quite in perfect working order and the sidewalks were slick. “It’s not a thing you did. Um. Sorry, I don’t want to get too deep into it, which is part of it. I don’t want to bum you out.”

“We can talk. I trust you.”

“It’s more—” she started. The light changed, and after a second, we started forward. “We’ve seen each other at our worst, right? On the baddest of bad days, when we just needed a shoulder, we helped each other out.”

I nodded.

“And I know where you come from. I knew and believed what you were saying when you brought up your sister.”

“Yeah. You backed me up when I didn’t trust myself to say anything to her.”

“Even with that, I don’t know where that line is. People have their boundaries, usually, and they draw them out behind them through a hundred signals, some really subtle, and some obvious. And yours is… very hard to identify until I’m in contact with it or you’re already in that very bad place. All of us are actually pretty bad about it, but yours is especially tricky because I care a shitton about you.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I won’t argue that. Thank you. I’ve actually been thinking about that, actually. How the team is dealing, the past couple of days, post-prison.”

“Turning on the heaters, turning on the televisions and radios, and watching the news with a dull, sick feeling.”

“…Can’t argue the sick feeling either. But we seem to be doing reasonably well,” I said. “Not great, but that wasn’t a situation that was going to be great for anyone. I think we’re getting distracted.”