“Look at that. Cracked his big stoic tough guy facade. One point to me.”

“Jesus, Aisha,” he grumbled.

“Don’t encourage the Heartbroken,” Tattletale said. “If they think they can get points, they’ll push things too far.”

“You’re the last person I’d expect to say is any good with kids,” Brian said. “You complained incessantly.”

“I wasn’t a kid! And you tried to be my dad, which, no thanks. You’ll be fine.”

“You actually know her. Maybe you should—”

“And I know you, and I have my instincts. Go, stop in for a minute or two, check she isn’t going to blow anything up—”

“And fix up the darkness, so she can’t get signals out,” Tattletale said. “If you’re so inclined.”

He looked between Tattletale and Aisha, and then at the crowd of Heartbroken.

It was so hard to keep up with them. Even in the quiet moments.

“You can say no,” Tattletale offered.

“No, I’ll go,” he sighed out the words. “Let me know if something changes.”

“Will do.”

“Brian,” Darlene said. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure,” he said, holding himself back from a groan or sigh.

That got harder when she didn’t ask, fidgeting and biting her fingernail instead, and looking in the direction of the hallway he’d filled with the darkness. Twelve or so, Darlene had black hair that didn’t go below her chin, tucked behind her ears, and bold red lipstick that didn’t suit a kid her age. She wore a costume with a knee-length dress built in, the cloth a shiny black, overlaid with silver tracery. Her tights were silver with black tracery.

His impulse was to turn to the efficient, to-the-point language he’d been using for the last few months with Valkyrie’s flock. Demand that she cut right to it. The habit was almost military-like, and he was almost irritated that he had taken to it as well as he had. It made him like his father.

He only stopped because of the kid’s lipstick. It reminded him of Aisha on a level; she had done a similar thing. In Aisha’s case, it had been because Aisha had physically grown up fast. She’d had to grow up fast in other ways, to survive her mom. Not so different from the Heartbroken.

No, he was reasonably certain he had never been even remotely good with kids. Aisha in particular.

“You have to tell him if you want something, Dar,” Imp said.

“What do you need?” he asked Darlene, trying to keep his voice gentle and soft. He didn’t feel good at it.

“I want to disconnect from her. I’m networked to her and only her right now, because Candy couldn’t stand it and Chicken didn’t want in, but it’s… a lot. Too intense.”

“Okay,” he said. “What can I do about that?”