The little girl, tea-cup in one hand, offered a little wave.

Sveta waved back.

“You can come back,” the employee said.

The back of the place was a mirror of the front, if perhaps a little cozier, for lack of a better word. Gingham was replaced with leather, pink with black, and pastel with wrought iron. The mascots were still present, but more… lively, I supposed. The mouse from before was encased in leather, zippers done up, the mischievous frog was bent over the top of one bench holding end of her dress up and out of the way while a bird held a paddle, and the sad puppy that had been around before was wearing dresses, smiling.

It said a lot about how striking the tone shift was, that it was the first thing that caught my eye, considering clientele. There was a severe woman in a leather dress with a laptop, typing away, and a very bewildered, uncomfortable dad sitting with a teenager who had hair dyed the colors of a sunset. It made me think of my own dad, who I hadn’t really talked to since maiming my mom.

The two Case Fifty-Threes were sitting in a booth, joined by the guy I was pretty sure was ‘Scraping’. I had only a glimpse of them, of hair that glowed, skin like eggshell, and bloody bandages, before the employee and her boss joined us.

It was a little shocking, tearing my eyes away from that group, and feeling the fleeting sensation like I’d just laid down like a dog lying in a sunbeam, and been forced to get up.

Was there an emotion manipulator in that grouping?

“What happened?” the boss asked. She was done up in high fashion, with dramatic makeup.

“He was outed as a cape, he got pushed down the stairs. We can’t take him to the hospital because people might want to hurt him. Can you check him over?”

“Parian would vouch for you?”

“Yes. She might have mentioned me, but it would have been to gripe about me as a person while respecting me as a colleague. I don’t futz around with stuff like this, I wouldn’t want to ruin her reputation.”

“I can call her?”

“No. You’ll find she won’t pick up. But that’s because something bigger is going on.”

I saw the doubt on the boss’s face.

“It’s true,” I said.

She looked me over. “You’re one of the heroes. I’ve seen you.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, take him through here. Lay him down. That’s good.”

Sveta followed the instructions.

“I like your costume,” the boss told me, before turning her attention to her employee, giving orders about getting a medical kit.

Yay. Small wins. She liked my costume.

A small win, small feeling, that met its match as we turned our attention to the trio in the booth. My attention was split between them and Sveta.