Seeing Engel on the approach soothed, and unwound some of the more intense frustrations and darker thoughts. She was, just by being near, a warm bath on a cold day, a delicious meal when he felt starved, a hug when he couldn’t remember ever having a good hug.

Newter was, by contrast, garishness. Orange skin, bubblegum pink hair, and a bright green winter coat, prowling forward on all fours, because the counterbalance of his long, prehensile tail made standing up straight and walking a pain.

Gregor was more up Egg’s alley, as far as styles and personalities went. The kind of guy he wanted to be. Stern, quiet, unflinching. Untouchable. Gregor wore a dress shirt made of clear plastic under a heavy coat, his skin, the snail shells that studded his skin, and the shadows of organs visible through it. His pants were held up by a belt with a stone fossil for a belt buckle, that had to weigh at least five pounds.

Matryoshka and Bijou were talking. Matryoshka had severe bangs, and was striped, strictly in horizontal stripes that changed her skin color as they extended down her face and emerged from her sleeves. Bijou, by contrast, looked utterly normal, if a bit nerdy. Brown-skinned, with glasses worn over a simple full-face mask, collar done up with a ribbon, hair in an old fashioned style.

“What a pair,” Whippersnap snarked, indicating Engel and Newter.

“We’ve teamed up before,” Newter said. “Synergy in powers, no synergy in anything else.”

“Your boss is a pain in my ass,” Engel said. “Also, we should go inside. They are waving us in.”

Egg turned to look.

The staff members were inside, waiting. A tinker stood further down the hallway.

“I used to have nightmares,” Matryoshka said, as the group started moving toward the doors. She had a heavy accent that sounded Russian. “I saw movies where aliens were caught and experimented on. I imagined being one of them. Strapped to a table, autopsied.”

“You’ll scare the children,” Engel said, quiet.

“I’m fine,” Egg said, rankling a bit.

“You’re a kid,” Engel said. She touched the side of his head, fingers against smooth skin.

He closed his eyes, feeling the senses bleed out from the touch. He spoke, “We’re not really kids. Kids have childhoods. We’ve seen stuff, lived through stuff.”

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” she said.

He felt frustrated, because it was really hard to retort like he wanted to retort, and he was so on the spot. Anything he said would be petulant.

He’d gone from feeling like someone on his way to being a grown-up when talking to Blackforest to feeling like a toddler around Engel, who he depended on too much to really reject or fight.

He set his jaw. “I’m fine. I can deal.”

“I’m not scared either,” Blackforest said, even though she’d said she was nervous earlier.