“I was there for all the therapy sessions, even if I didn’t participate,” he said. He looked at the others. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything. But I am going to say, again, this is a trainwreck waiting to happen.”

“We got it,” Chris said. “Saying it over and over doesn’t change anything.”

“Be kind, Chris,” Sveta said. “There’s a lot playing into Byron’s concerns.”

Byron shook his head. He glanced at me.

“You need anything, while we’re talking?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Um. You seem alright, so… be safe. Be wary. And for the record, since you’re going to ask…”

He showed me his power. Motes of light, like Tristan’s, blue. He drew them in the air, two expanding, abstract shapes, not closed like Tristan’s had been. He positioned them so there was one on either side of him, then clenched his fist. The lines that were drawn became water, buckets worth, spraying out in the direction the lines had been drawn. He had drawn them out as expanding spirals, and the resulting water flew out in circular sprays.

“You can use me if you need to clean up, Tristan,” Byron said. “I’ll do the quick swaps if you need them.”

The water was still spraying when Byron blurred, features distorting and smearing together, the two lighted eyes peering through the shadows between folds and smears, going from blue to orange-red.

One of the sprays of water lost all of its oomph, the remaining water striking the ground to flow through grass and between rocks. The other diagram became a solid object, a wheel spikier and cruder than what Tristan had made. It hit the ground and stuck there.

The water that Byron’s power had produced rained down on us for several seconds.

“It’s not going to hurt the box?” Chris asked.

“Nope,” Kenzie said. “Waterproofed just in case Byron visited. It was good to see you, Byron, by the way. I hope to prove you wrong.”

“Yeah,” Sveta said. “That’s a good way of putting it, Kenzie.”

Tristan’s face was at an angle that saw him looking down at the ground. At first I thought he was trying to keep the water out of his face. Then, as he changed the angle of his head a little, I saw his face.

“For the record,” Tristan said. “If it’s my two hours and I ask you a question and then pass the baton, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t take up extra time and use it to try and sabotage me.”

“I did say hi to him,” I said.