“Seven? I’m flattered,” Tattletale replied, grinning.
Maybe she knows what it means, maybe she’s entirely bullshitting… I can’t tell.
“It’s reason enough to end this conversation here and now,” Armsmaster spoke, “Before you find some angle.”
…fair enough.
“Fine,” Legend nodded, “That’s all I need. Miss Militia? Escort them away?”
Green-black energy leapt to Miss Militia’s hand, materialized into the shape of a gun. She didn’t raise it, and she kept her finger off the trigger, but the threat was implicit.
Looks like we’re done here. By declining both working with the Wards and revealing her identity to Sophia, Taylor has implicitly made her choice: Jail time.
Masters of the getaway, it might be time to do your thing.
“You start a fight here,” Grue spoke, “You better pray to some higher power that you can fucking spin this well enough with all those others looking, because it’s an end to the truce if you don’t, too many eyes on this.”
That’s a good point.
Grue turned his head, and I leaned forward a little to see what he was looking at. There were capes at the far end of the hallway, staring at the scene, kept out of the main triage area by a set of PRT officers. Trickster leaned against a wall with a cell phone raised, recording video.
Hah! Hi there.
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