We wrapped up. Bit of mustard, bit of lettuce, meat patties, egg for Crystal and Mom, toasted english muffins, coffee in industrial size travel mugs with lids, like I imagined truckers using.

The fact my mom used the travel mugs was maybe the first real tell she had given me about where she was at emotionally since she’d broken down in tears.

Crystal floated in. “Holy hell, is that sweater mine? It looks great.”

I turned to face her, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, zipper front. Huh. Now I remember it.”

“You got it for your birthday,” I commented. “One of a few things.”

“I remember now,” she said.

“From me.”

She had the decency to look embarrassed. “To be fair, that looks way better when worn than it did hanging in my closet.”

“You could have taken my word for it,” I said, looking over my shoulder. I studied her expression. “Do you want to wear it?”

“Red’s more my color than yours anyway,” Crystal said, dodging the thrust of what I was saying.

“That’s not an ‘I didn’t even try on the sweater you gave me for my birthday’ apology.”

“It’s as good as you’re going to get. You’re on probation and you’re technically in my custody. I can give you orders, can’t I?”

I pulled off the sweater, passing it to Crystal with a roll of my eyes. She wasn’t trying to be nice, either.

“I see,” she said. “The fabric and texture change a bit when it’s stretched out.”

“Which you’d know if you actually tried it on!” I called back, as I was already halfway to her closet.

Everything close to normal. Pretend-normal, like the conversation last night hadn’t happened.

In her closet, there was a bulkier black sweater with a deep groove to the fabric and a hood built in. It had been my first choice to wear, but I’d wanted to make a point with the abandoned birthday present.

I reached out, and on impulse, activated my forcefield.

The Wretch struck the doorframe of the closet. It was loud, considering the otherwise quiet morning.

“Vic!?” Crystal called out.

“It’s fine!” I called back.

Focus, I thought. Focus without focusing, calm.

We pulled the sweater from the hanger, lifted it up…

And I caught it, as I dismissed the forcefield.

Clothes had a way of being armor. Walls erected between skin that was made of stray animals, bugs, and rodents and the outside world where monsters lurked.

I had actual armor now, and it wasn’t what Weld had helped me make for my costume. It wasn’t quite perfect, and it was bound up in a whole lot of negative emotion, but it was armor.

Which let clothes be more like actual clothes. I pulled on the sweater and felt its plush warmth against me, hugging my arms around my body.

Good.

“You ready?” Crystal called over.