They were gathered, her core team of Shepherds she worked well with and more or less trusted to a situation like this, Sveta, Tristan, the boy from Mortari. All recuperating from the fight with the Nemean Titan, drinking water, talking. Finding their centers.

Her focus wasn’t on them, but on her teammate.

Losing Victor had been a scare. The idea that they’d almost lost Tribute earlier in the day was far scarier.

Tribute was wearing a costume that had been through three big design phases now, much like hers had. Reach’s striking style with bold colors that stopped short of being garish, contrasted with blacks or deep darks. Then they’d joined the Attendant, with a cleaner cut look, the contrasts less intimidating, a few style choices like cuffs and collars that echoed regular clothing, while still staying costume. Hers had involved a folded collar on her dress, pleating on the skirt, cuffs at the end of her sleeves and tops of her boots. Tribute had the head-to-toe bodysuit with the stylized helmet, and most of the focus had been on the shape of the armor panels he strapped onto key areas, and the shape of his cape, which had still flowed over one shoulder. For anyone bringing a costume with them as they joined the Attendant, body armor had been cut down, pouches reduced, and if they needed stuff, they went to the vehicles that took them to wherever they were working. All with the intent of looking more like cops than a tactical strike team.

With their final move to the Shepherds, the cuffs and collars were dropped, colors made to fit a gentler aesthetic, more emphasis on emblems, and more flowing cloth and straps. Darker costumes, brighter emblems. For her, it had meant a longer skirt, which she didn’t mind, and because the weather had been getting so cold so quickly, a jacket with a crescent moon mounted across the shoulder blades. For Tribute, as he stood before her, the cloth of the cape that extended over one shoulder had been extended forward, into a toga-like cut over his armor. It could have looked dumb, but it didn’t.

But right now, she could see the blood that had settled into the folds. Probably not what the Shepherds had intended. She could see how his head hung, like he was fatigued. He didn’t move or react like he’d seen her.

Lost in your own head again, Tribute?

She waved a hand, trying to get his attention, but he wore a full-face helmet with visors for the eyes. Either his eyes were closed, or the helmet impacted his field of view enough that he didn’t see the motion.