Amy nodded, head bobbing, messy curls bouncing. She pushed them out of her face, and paused to look at her hand, as if she were surprised to see the tattoos there.

There was emotion in that look.

Tentatively, Crystal reached out, and put a hand on Amy’s shoulder. She could feel the warmth of Amy’s skin. It felt dangerous, intimidating. But… she believed Amy, in this. “This is good. And I’ll be in touch.”

“Cool,” Amy said, absently. The girl looked out over the horizon, eastwards. It was clear she was already thinking about possibilities. About taking steps.

Withdrawing her hand, Crystal backed away a step, and then took flight. Back to Mom, and to discuss things with Uncle Mark.

Last 20.end

“Are you going to come home tonight, or…?”

“Define home?”

“I’m wondering if I should expect you tonight. That’s all. Or…”

She kept doing that. Leaving the sentences unfinished, trailing off. The other fragment was so obvious.

“Or?” Missy prompted.

“Will you be seeing your father, instead?”

Missy held back a sigh. By asking she’d given her mother permission to bring it up. “No.”

“Oh good! I had a hard time finding the ingredients to make cake, but Jane gave me a recipe for a three-ingredient cheesecake. I’ll have to put it together this afternoon, because Jane says it doesn’t freeze right…”

Her mom had a gleam of victory in her eyes as she went on. She sat in the driver’s seat, a red wool cap pulled over her black hair to hide the roots. Her hair was graying and hair dye wasn’t really a thing while people were getting re-established.

“…got some chipped beef for gravy pie. How does that sound? I know it’s not your favorite-favorite, but given circumstances, do you think…?”

“That sounds good. I like cheesecake. Gravy pie sounds nice,” Missy said. “But.”

“But?”

“I’m going to have dinner with my friends. A bunch of the old heroes and people from Brockton Bay. Then work, I think.”

“Work? On your birthday? Is this your boss being ridiculous again?”

Ugh. Missy wasn’t really going to work, but now she had to commit.

“I barely come to your place anymore. My office has more of my stuff than the apartment does. It’s easier, and I’m busy.”

“You can tell her no.”

“My boss is—was Narwhal, Mom. And she’s not exactly my boss anymore. I got a promotion. I told you about that.”

“Narwhal,” her mom shook her head. “I still can’t wrap my head around it. Now was she Protectorate or Guild?”

“She was both. A lot of international work. The Guild went all over the place, primarily to tackle human rights abuses, parahuman warlords, be heroes to places without heroes. Then she did the Protectorate thing too.”

“Does she even sleep?”