They were very, very different people, but they could talk, and they seemed to enjoy the moment. More than that, Sveta seemed to be in a reasonably good mood, considering the scene that was slowly being mapped out.

Tristan and Precipice were talking. Precipice—Rain—had transformed. I knew he still carried a lot. I wasn’t of the opinion that he should be freed of that burden. But he was helping, he was doing good, and if he ever worked off that burden, truly worked it off, then he deserved to be free of it.

Tristan was explaining, indicating the images. Red peeked through cutains of streamer-like tracks that the snowflakes had made. People hung on his words rather than the images, and that might have been merciful.

“I like them,” I said.

“Some good ones in there,” Anelace said.

“Are you angling at something there, Anelace? It feels like you’re talking around a subject.”

“Every time I say something I’m thinking about five responses I could make before I decide on one I’m not entirely satisfied with.”

“You want to join?”

He shook his head.

“Because the alternative is you’re going to say something really nice or really awful, and you’re working up the courage.”

“It’s not too nice or too bad, Antares. I was talking about keeping good company, and I think my team screwed up by not taking you when you interviewed. Everything you said when you were talking about your strengths and your vision was on point.”

“Thank you. But your teammates weren’t wrong. I wasn’t in a good place.”

“Better place now?”

I shrugged. “Much.”

“If you ever want company, patrolling, minor mission, surveillance—”

I turned my full focus to him, and he stopped talking.

“Yeah,” he said, terminating the prior thought, then before I could respond, he added, “It’s an open invite. You caught my attention when you showed up to a superhero job interview in business casual, and I’d like to get to know that person better, whether it’s a work relationship, friendship, or something more.”

I drew in a breath, pausing a second to try to formulate my thoughts.

He jumped in before I could, “No pressure. I know capes have hangups, I know we’re all busy, and we’re all still kind of mourning—”

Dean, I thought.

“—I won’t be offended if you say—”

I interrupted him, “I’ll be offended if you don’t let me get a word in.”

He made an amused sound, shifting his footing.

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m working through stuff, and like you say, I’m working on all of this.”

He nodded. He looked very at ease, all considered.

“Whatever I end up deciding, I’m flattered. And I think you’re a good guy.”

He looked away, studying the distant New Brockton and the portal that loomed above it.