She warmed her hands with the packet and got her feet warm where they’d been pointed away from the space heater for the duration of her conversation with Lily.

She would watch this to see what information she could glean, check some more things, communicate with her teams, and then go to sleep. Under the covers, she would be warm. Whoever had made this apartment had skimped on insulation, but Faultline hadn’t ignored the luxuries like good beds and blankets. Even the one on Tattletale’s lap now was comfortably warm for how thin it was.

Tempting, to imagine going to bed. To disconnect.

She watched Victoria Dallon weave through the crowd. People had parted as Weld reached the crowd. Avoiding the monstrous Case Fifty-Three. Victoria and a Garotte with flesh instead of armor moved into the gap the part had made.

The video had no sound, but Tattletale could parse it.

Garotte, body language, clearly nervous; says, ‘it’s just a hologram’
Weld, smiling; says ‘you look good. wow’

The awkward pause lingered after.

Ten feet of distance between them, awkwardness, timing; a divide. Emotional distance.

What did it say that she wanted them to fail? What did it mean, and where did that feeling come from? Was it strategic, that it would get them off her back for a little while, make them a little weaker?

Her power supplied nothing, and she wouldn’t have trusted it if it had.

The distance between Garotte and Weld closed. Garotte said something.

Garotte, cognizant of nearby people and watching eyes; ‘I’m so glad you’re okay.’
Weld, smiling; ‘I’m indestructible.’
Garotte responding, closing distance to keep the conversation private; ‘I know that isn’t true’ followed by another sentence segment; ‘Your body is tough but your heart can break.’
Weld’s silence, head moving; looking at the hologram
Garotte, hand at one elbow, standing askew; ‘It’s not a problem, covering up my differences?’
Weld, taken aback, shaking his head; ‘no’.

Tattletale watched as the pair drew close enough to touch one another. She watched Weld kiss Garotte.

Victoria, a short distance away, was smiling. Her cousin was close to her, exaggerating how dead she was on her feet.

Capes tired, soldiers tired, moderate casualties, no major figures lost…

She started tallying up the observations, her attention on other things in the scene.

Victoria Dallon hugged her cousin. They talked, and Tattletale kept her focus on the details of the scene. The reason she’d wanted to tune in, had a man on the ground, camera ready. These fleeting moments where people were together provided the clearest image of what was happening offworld. Places utterly disconnected from the world and dimension she inhabited.

If she’d anticipated this, set up more infrastructure, if she’d hammered it all out—

Victoria and Garotte passed by the camera, distracting her. Sveta was talking to Weld, all excitement, animated. The ice had been broken.