“Having a giant with interdimensional powers stomping through the city and our quarantine hurts the containment of our mess,” Narwhal said, from ten feet away.

Narwhal’s response had been loud enough that the microphone apparently caught it, because Amy responded. “Essential traces of the person he was are still intact. Chevalier wanted to take care of people, protect, hold the line. So does the Gibborim Knight. That’s all he wants.”

“Is that because you brainwashed him?”

Multiple heads turned my way. I didn’t look at them, instead staring at the screen.

“I don’t brainwash people, Victoria. That implies there was a brain to wash. He was a blank slate. We brought out the traits and aspects that make him want to work with us.”

“My mistake,” I said. “You’re right.”

Fuck you. I had to resist mouthing the words.

The screen showed four giants of Amy’s creation. One giant from the past, Dauntless.

A marker showed Chevalier’s team on the map, making his own approach. I had no idea what even an elite team of Wardens could do, but they were apparently planning to get involved on some level. Or planning on being there to mitigate the damage.

“Borders are sovereign,” Narwhal said. “We’re in a state of emergency, and I know for a fact you know that, because you helped us arrange accommodations for more than a million refugees. You can’t move a massive power that you have untested control over through our city—”

“Evacuated city,” Amy said.

“Partially evacuated. And still sovereign, sensitive territory,” Narwhal retorted.

“The diplomats are talking,” my father said. “One moment?”

“Of course,” Narwhal told him.

Amy started to say something, but someone put them on mute, or took them off ‘talk’.

Nobody asked or signaled to put us on mute. We stood where we stood, all of us gathered around the one desk, sitting or standing by chairs, leaning against a wall in Narwhal’s case. My mom sat off to the left of the desk, partially in the aisle.

I looked up at the screen. The ‘Gibborim Knight’ was there, still fashioning its armor, still trudging forward. It had built boots to cover its feet, which had been sandals before, and was building cross-straps for its chest. The expression it wore was a focused, determined one, even as its face broke apart into three transparent versions.

“The snark isn’t helpful,” Narwhal told me, her voice low, too quiet for even the people at the desk to hear.

“Snark?” I asked, matching her in volume. I thought back. “No. Not at all. I wouldn’t play games.”

“I certainly hope not,” she said. “This is diplomacy.”

I kept my voice quiet, “Amy wants to hear that she’s right more than she cares about the accusation.”

“This isn’t about her. This is about the very real, present, and unknown danger to the city. Please.”

“It’s the same thing in my view.”