“They got hurt, so they got medical care, but that was a while ago,” Kenzie said.

“Before I stopped in.”

“Yeah,” Kenzie said.

“They count too.”

“Damage control,” I said. “We’ll apologize, see what Lookout can do to make amends or patch things up—”

“There might not be anything,” Kenzie said.

“We’ll try.”

The group started to split up. I indicated Kenzie to Natalie, and Natalie walked over, putting a hand on Kenzie’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” I told Natalie, as the others all headed in different directions. “You didn’t come bearing worse news?”

“I wanted to do something to help.”

“You’re awesome,” I said.

Having a mission helps, even if it’s the actions of an overly attached child running headlong into a savage ex-warlord who hasn’t had any reasons to be especially savage in recent years.

I still had worries about my hair loss. I still felt that shakiness, emotionally, around my heart. I still felt like I could jump at shadows.

Like nothing had changed in years.

But having a mission kept my focus elsewhere. This was me, it was what I was made to do, trained by my parents. Helping. Fixing.

What the fuck could Kenzie do that would make things up to Rachel? It couldn’t even be a promise of chores, because I had a gut feeling that Rachel would forbid Kenzie from going near dogs until things were okay again. And depending on the severity of the situation, it could complicate Kenzie’s relationship with her team.

Such a small thing, that somehow mattered so insanely much to two people.

I flew to large groups, stopping in, asking.

So messy.

It went back to what I’d noticed with the Patrol. That they were okay. They weren’t crumbling internally, all the things they’d been holding in or dealing with being turned into actual crises, big and small, by the application of the insane pressure the Titans posed.

“Have you seen any Undersiders?” I asked a group from the Girls at Bat. I saw only confused stares.

“Blonde, purple and black costume, eye on the chest, black mask?” I tried. “Gray demon mask, black bodysuit, snarky?”

More confused head shakes, even as I went on to describe the nuances of Roman’s stylized, lopsided armor, Juliette’s elegant queen aesthetic, and Chastity’s ‘high boots, elbow-length leather gloves, whip, and captain’s jacket’ look.

Moving on.

Deathchester, a group of them sitting on a fence, smoking, while others stood at the edge of the road, arms folded, huddled.

“Damsel,” I called out, as I landed.

Power flickered around her claw as she turned my way. She didn’t blast. “Don’t surprise people with powers as dangerous as mine.”

“Mini-emergency. Have you seen Imp, Tattletale, any of the older Heartbroken?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’ll owe you a favor.”