Tristan looked over at her.

Scribe touched her heart, before stating a slightly overdramatic, shaking-her-head-while-speaking, “I’m really sorry. That’s a shame. I know you were close, once.”

“He’s a good guy,” Tristan said. “Deserves everything good.”

“He is,” another Shepherd said. Not one of Scribe’s flock. “I hear good things. I wish he’d stuck with us.”

One of Scribe’s retinue leaned over to his female friend, hand cupped over mouth, whispering something. The friend laughed, and started to pass it on to Scribe.

Tristan got to his feet, and in that same second, the guy cape who’d just whispered the ‘joke’ to his friend took an abrupt step away from the wall, toward Tristan. There was a swagger to his body language, like he expected a fight.

“What are you doing?” Tristan asked.

“What are you doing?” the guy responded, emphasizing the ‘you’.

Tristan stared at him. The guy stared back.

The other Shepherd that had said something kind about Reconciliation stood off to the side, actively not looking at the potential altercation.

“Hey, Pictor?” Tristan asked. “Do me a favor?”

The friendlier Shepherd looked over. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

I felt such a profound disappointment in the guy. I could almost hear it in Tristan’s voice, too. “Wave me over when the guys inside the station come back with the response from Cryptid? Can you do that?”

“Okay.”

The aggressive guy-Shepherd stared at Tristan, silent, as Tristan turned to go.

Tristan shook his head, walking away.

The group laughed behind him.

Tristan put the station entrance behind him, making some movement that saw his arm pass in front of his face, before his armor squeaked, straining.

Sorry about Reconciliation, I thought. He’d been so hopeful. Byron had planned to chime in.

Shitty luck.

I could relate to the loneliness that seemed to surround him now. No teammates in immediate reach, possibly because the group had been told to keep their distance from one another until further evaluation or checks. No Reconciliation. I had no idea how he got on with his parents, but I remembered it being bad, last I’d heard.

I wanted to talk to him, to encourage him. Even if Vista had been there… I knew she was Byron’s, but she was friendly with Tristan, and he needed a friend.

He stood outside the station, gaze out on the cityscape and horizon.

Turning, he sighted Rain, and began trudging off in Rain’s direction.

Guess you’re not being separated that forcefully, I thought.

Good that you have each other.

I clicked, to change the channel, Tristan still in the back of my mind.

Which took me back to Sveta.