Grue gave a hand signal, Bitch whistled to give the dogs the order, and we rode.

Angelica was happy to follow the others, which freed me from the burden of getting her to follow my instructions.

Ah, good.

That only left me the task of holding on and ignoring the ache in my leg muscles and stomach.

Tattletale was able to give us a general idea of which direction Purity was, using her power, and it only took us a few minutes to spot the telltale pillar of white in the distance.  Purity’s light, not aiming at a building, but lashing out.

Sounds like she was further away than I would’ve thought. Purity and her carnage sounded very visible from the descriptions so far.

As we got closer, the situation became clearer.  Purity, a flare of white against the backdrop of the gray sky, was surrounded by other figures, easy enough to make out with their predominantly white costumes.  New Wave.

This Arc is filled with the color white in a lot of ways, huh.

Nice to see New Wave is putting in effort to stop this. Is the Protectorate anywhere to be seen?

Hm… They could cause some trouble for the Undersiders if they (most likely Glory Girl in particular) don’t focus on Purity like they by all sound logic should.

Regent and Bitch were climbing onto Brutus, while Tattletale was examining her phone.  That left two dogs to ride.

I looked at where Grue sat, and decided it would be less awkward if I didn’t ride with him.  I approached Angelica, extended my hand for her to sniff, then climbed onto her back.

It’s probably best that Grue rides alone anyway, or in the back. We don’t want anyone to have to hold onto his chest.

“Tattletale,” Grue spoke.  “I thought we were in a hurry.”

She put the phone away, then climbed up behind Grue.

Although I’m not quite sure how much that’s necessary.

Hm… this means Taylor is alone on Angelica. Has she had the reigns on one of the dogs before? I don’t think so.

“Coil?” I guessed.

“Yep.”

“And he’s saying?”

“To be careful.”

Solid advice.

“You going to be okay?” I asked, as Grue zipped up his jacket.

Told ya we’d skip it.

So it seems we’re picking up about as close to where we left off as we could while still skipping the sowing and Tattletale’s explanation about whatever trick she has up her sleeve for dealing with Purity.

With his t-shirt removed, he was wearing the leather jacket over his bare, freshly stitched skin.  I couldn’t imagine it was remotely comfortable.

Nope, that sounds awful.

“I’ll be fine.  Let’s end this ASAP.  Bitch?  The dogs.”

I winced.  I wasn’t looking forward to riding.  It was too soon after our previous escapade, and I was still sore.

Ow, yeah, that doesn’t sound comfortable either. To be fair, though, this is pretty much what both of you signed up for.

Bitch whistled and pointed, and we headed out the front door of the church.  The moment we were outside, Grue hauled himself up onto Judas’ back, and I could see him hunch over for a moment in pain.

“Seriously, are you going to be-”

“I’m fine, Skitter,” Grue spoke.

Doesn’t really look that way, but alright.

He was creating darkness around himself, and his voice had that hollow quality to it.  “Just drop it.”

The ‘drop it’ line hit a little too close to home, echoing what I’d said at the mall after Brian’s rejection, and once or twice after that.

Oh boy.

Is he hurt by her unwillingness to talk about it, or is this maybe a straight instance of the same from his side?

Maybe he’s afraid of admitting weakness. Perhaps especially when he’s with the team, as de facto leader.

I was made acutely aware of that little rift I’d generated in what had been a fairly easygoing friendship.

😦

Remember how I mentioned my own trouble with working up the courage to confess to my first crush? This is a big part of what I was worried about. That taking it to that point, whether I got rejected or not, would eventually ruin the nice friendship we’d already had for many years.

I swallowed, nodded, turned my attention back to the bag of medical stuff, and found the needle and thread.

“Like you said before,” I told Grue, quiet, pulling the pre-threaded needle free of the spool, “Let me apologize in advance.”

“Damn it,” he muttered.

Hehehe.

Turnabout is fair play.