“Really don’t. I know like… remember that time I said don’t turn the tap water on, because the water was bad in the house, and I was going to be taking a shower in the next room. Then you turned the tap water on to be funny?”

“I’m really sorry. I thought it would get cold if I turned the cold water tap on. I didn’t think it would get hot.”

“This is more important than that. I need to be ready, in case that—” He pointed at the refugees who had left cars, or who hadn’t even come from cars. People who were hostile and kicking up a fuss. Fume Hood was over there with one of the Patrol captains who weren’t holding the lines. “—becomes an incident. If you flip my switches or mess with anything, it might mean something doesn’t move like it should and then I might get hurt. Not even as a joke.”

“Okay.”

Caryatid looked his way. He couldn’t see her face.

“You warm enough?” he asked, softer.

“Mostly,” Finale said.

Caryatid stood off to the side in her breaker form. Her face unfolded like an open book, with pages appearing and constantly turning to wrap around the sides of her head, blending in with her tumble of black hair, which was doing something similar, if subtler. Her hands were the same, surrounded in orange-yellow floofs that unfolded in a similar way.

It was a relief when Fume Hood rejoined them.

“Do me a favor?” Fume Hood asked. “Look at my fan? I keep smelling burning, and I’m worried I’m going to go up in flames.”

Withdrawal had to unhitch a few things so he was free to lean a bit out of the frame and work. Fume Hood had a heated fan at her back, in a much smaller version of the heating system he had. She’d already had the fan as part of her costume and attaching the heater had been a pretty minor thing to do. When she’d grabbed a jacket to wear with her costume in the colder weather, they’d had to do minor alterations so the fan fit. The hooded mantle of green cloth that hung from shoulders down to mid-torso hid most of it.

Her hand went to her stomach as she bent over to give him more access to her back.

“To pay me back, give me one of your orbs when I’m done,” he said. “I want to compare some stuff to my pill popper.”

“Sure,” she said. “We’re still in a yellow-rated zone?”

“Should be,” he said. He checked on his phone while unscrewing the housing that held the fan in place. A bit of lint, it seemed. Toasty lint. Nothing that would ignite to the point of setting her costume on fire.