53

Summary:

People voted for social things, so social things.

Also, the long awaited Medhall meeting.

Chapter Text

MON MAR 7

I spent the rest of last night coordinating with people while keeping an eye on Spitfire. She lived in a nice apartment near but not in the Towers. It still had a sterile 'newly moved into' feeling to it, which matched her story. It had three bedrooms, the largest with the barest hints of being lived in, while the smallest seemed set up as a barely-used office space. I couldn't find anything positively pointing to her living with anyone else before now, as she seemed to have just enough clothes and food for herself, and the second room only had Terri's still-packed bag of meager belongings besides basic furnishing. Far too large for her, and not the sort of place I could see someone homeless jumping to the second they had the money.

She definitely had some sort of patron, and all signs currently pointed to Faultline. There was very little information online about them, a few flags for how to contact and hire them, a handful of businesses they seemed to frequent, small blurbs online about known and suspected members, but that was it.

While I was there I kept an eye out for Empire activity, noting quite a few things which were suspicious that late in the day. Groups moving together, vehicles circling several-block chunks of the city, shipping trucks moving around well past evening… little things, only a few of each, but it all added up. I scribbled notes down in the notepad Amy had been using while we were surveying for base locations. I couldn't read signs, but I could triangulate possible points of interest and do some math. 'Eight streets west, three north, third building south from intersection' and such, that I could look up addresses later.

Since I was on one of my phones anyway, I'd dug out the other and checked through my messages. Nothing high priority for tonight, but some things I'd have to look into later. I replied to a few of the more social messages that I couldn't really ignore 'before bed' at this hour. On the civilian side, Kara was talking about school, complaining about homework, and planning things for the next few weeks that I wasn't sure I'd have time to consider. Sabah was obliquely complaining about the Empire, hinting they'd bothered Parian recently and that a whites-only frat on campus was acting up.

The cape phone had updates from Dinah and Tracy, and a few things from Vicky and Amy, among which was a text about reinforcements arriving to aid the heroes. Which was fantastic, but historically very odd. I passed it along to Sue along with some of what I'd seen, and did a bit of digging while I waited and watched. Prism and Ursa Aurora from New York, plus Bastion and Weld from Boston, were close and famous enough that I knew their names and had a vague knowledge of them before she mentioned them. I didn't like the sound of Bastion, but had no complaints about the others. Flechette surprised me being another semi-local name, but I wasn't going to remember all of New York's many Wards. Chubster was a Shaker-ish Brute from California. His name gave me pause, but the track record I dug up spoke well of him.

Everyone has heard of Dragon though, and I couldn't help but be excited for that if nothing else.

It wasn't much longer after that stint of burning through most of my cape phone's pre-paid data that I headed home for the night. My dreams were from a similar era as the previous night's, focusing more on the monk-like Airbenders of the time. A good number of them could fly, which was nearly enough to distract me from what I was supposed to be learning. I wanted to fly, needed it, but I knew it was well beyond me currently. Absolutely a goal for the future, though.

What the dreams were teaching me was a deep meditative trance state. There were a great many ways to meditate, and almost as many end goals they're intended to reach. This one an exercise in intentional dissociation; splitting the mind from the body, which was different from my experience separating mind from emotions as was more common. By the logic of dreams, most of them never fully clicked as dreams. I was living an experience, which felt like a memory. My dreams of learning to bend metal aside, the vast majority of the time I never noticed I was actually dreaming until I woke up.

This was one of the few times I shocked myself awake in the middle of it. The sensation of splitting the mind away, of no longer having a body, was extremely disorienting. Halfway expecting it, because memory-me had additional lessons and training I hadn't actually experienced, was insufficient to prevent me startling from the dream. I had no intention of trying it immediately, my mind far too chaotic at the moment to manage, but half an hour of pacing around the kitchen nibbling on snacks and water was enough to convince me to go back to bed.

The dream continued and eventually concluded. I woke again, much more calm and reserved than I had been in the middle of the night. Astral Projection, huh? It seemed like new-age bullshit, but… a lot of my powers did. It's just that it actually worked, for me. I might need to pick up some of those books just for ideas, which deeply rankled on some level.

I drew the line at buying one of those stupid salt lamps. That was absolutely never happening.

Tearing my mind back from its tangent, I had to wonder if the dream was because of my research. Something about Prism or Ursa Aurora sparking a memory in my power, maybe. I'd have to find time to practice and make sure I understood it. It might be useful for spying if it was as ghostly as it seemed.

I did my morning workout with Cass, updated her on potential base-finding progress, and made breakfast. After that, I checked my phone for texts. There were a couple from Kara and Tracy checking on me, but that was about it. I replied and sent out a few texts of my own to check in, arguably the most important being to Terri. Apparently the most difficult part of owning a cheap emergency phone while homeless was keeping it charged, which shouldn't be an issue while she was rooming with Spitfire. Sally got back saying it was handled, and Terri eventually replied that she was still alive.

Since I wasn't going to school today, I wound up looking for busywork. Cleaning a little, checking laundry and the mail. The latter included shiny new cards for the accounts I'd set up. I wasn't sure how to feel about that, but I guess I had a use for the little card slots in my wallet now. Half an hour of busywork later, a familiar truck trundled up in front of our house. I checked a window, saw it was Gerard, and then watched him approach the house with my power. He seemed calm enough, with undercurrents of trepidation and resolution.

"Hey." I said, answering the door.

"'Sup. So, uh… where's the kid?"

"Not a kid." Cass called from the kitchen, and I could feel her marking our table and several appliances, personally feeling that the refrigerator was a bit overkill.

"Anyone who can't drink is a kid." He joked back, smile a bit forced.

"Who says I can't drink?"

"The gum'mint."

"Fuck'em."

He snorted, motioning inside, and I led him through. "Cass, this is Gerard. He's going to keep an eye on the place," keep you company, I barely didn't say, "and maybe stall while you hide or escape if things go bad."

"I don't need a fucking babysitter." She growled, but I could feel her insides unclenching in relief.

"Easy job for me, then." He shrugged.

"It's just for now, anyway." I cut in, hoping to diffuse an argument. "It's better than just hoping nothing happens."

Cass grumbled, but left it at that. I threw on some more toast for Gerard, and started coffee for dad. It wasn't much longer before he was up and getting ready for work, then coming downstairs. He paused when he spotted Gerard, glancing my way. I nodded to Cass, and he hummed.

Dad gathered up his portion of breakfast, and cleared his throat. "I trust you with my house, and my guest, but we're going to have a talk when I get back."

Gerard held up his hands, though he was smiling. "I don't mean to step on any toes. I'm a couple favors removed from the start of things, anyway."

They both looked to me. I turned from dad to the grinning help, giving him a stink-eye for throwing me under the bus. "It's been a very chaotic weekend, and it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Not arguing." Dad stated. "Just don't forget to let me know things. A text or a note, something."

"Texting leaves trails…" I muttered, but he was already moving to the living room, to watch the news while he ate. I sighed, then turned my attention back to the other two. "Don't kill each other. I need to rest and think a bit, before today."

They didn't stop me as I went upstairs to my room and plopped down on the floor, leaning up against my bed. I let the tension bleed out, trying to rest and reset, knowing this was hardly going to be the worst of today. I meditated as I watched Cass settle in more comfortably, and Gerard sidled over to Dad for a quiet chat. It still felt like it took almost no effort to do so, which let me focus my full attention on myself.

Dad left for work, while Cass moved to the living room. I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but it seemed like she and Gerard started snipping at each other while they kept an eye on the news. Occasionally one would pull out their phone to check something, but they settled into a semi-comfortable atmosphere of filling the air with idle chatter.

Right around when school would start, my phone started dinging rather aggressively at me. I grabbed it from where I'd left it charging, and found several texts from Vicky.

'Hey Taylor' 'Amy wont wake up' 'I think she did smthng dumb last night' 'maybe the hospital again' 'cant wake her for school' 'can you check on her later' 'I need to go now or im late too' I checked the phone's clock, and saw that it was about three minutes before the late bell. She'd definitely be late if she wasn't flying already. 'Gtg check on her soon?' came in while I was doing that.

'Sure, I'll call her in an hour or so. Unless she's sick or something and you need me to physically check on her?' I replied.

'N, just sleeping' 'I think' 'should be okay'

I snorted at how frantic her string of texts made her sound. 'Okay. I'll call her before my meeting today.'

'thx'

I shook my head with a fond smile, putting the phone back. Then I checked the time, saw I still had about two hours, and settled back in to meditate for a while. Around an hour later, I called Amy, and she didn't pick up. Half an hour later, I tried again, starting to get a little worried.

With the meeting starting a little after noon, I started getting dressed and ready to go around eleven. I tried Amy one last time, and left a voicemail checking on her. Then I hesitantly set it to silent, knowing I might forget before the meeting. Gram's car arrived not long after, and I pointed out sandwich fixings for lunch to Cass and Gerard on my way out. We were expected to eat before the meeting, so our first stop was a restaurant.

"You seem tense." Gram noted aloud.

"Well… it is Medhall..." I nodded to the driver, not mentioning the Nazis. Gram's lips pursed a little harder. "It's a big meeting, with a lot of reasons to feel stressed about it." The fact that I was wearing normal dress shoes wasn't helping my stress levels. It was just too likely they'd be paid extra attention due to how ratty they looked. If they noticed the lack of soles, that would be a massive faux pas at best, and very unwanted connections being made at the worst. It just wasn't worth it.

She hummed in thought. "Something to take your mind off of it?"

"Well, you still haven't told me about my aunt and uncle?" She tensed, and I cut back in. "You don't have to, it's just that mom never talked much, and I always assumed… I could ask later." There were a lot of things I should have asked my mother, but now I'll never have the chance. One of the great regrets that'd paralyzed me with grief occasionally, that first year without her. It still ached, but I'd moved past its debilitating phase.

She let out a small sigh, then gave me a soft smile. "I suppose I should, then. It's… hrm." I gave her the time to collect her thoughts. "Lilian was the heart of our family, ever since she was born. She was small, and always sick. It didn't take long to diagnose it as Systemic Lupus. She had to be kept on immunosuppressants, and have limited interaction with strangers to limit how often she'd catch something from them. Annette… Annette spent the most time with her, whenever she was home. Keeping her company. They'd play, read together, watch shows… Lilian's hair was thinner, lighter. Annette would often help her dye it, help her feel better about it. Then…"

I reached over, trying to give her a side-hug after she choked to a stop. "It's okay, we don't-"

Gram waved me away. "It's fine. It was after Annette left, a few months after Behemoth. The stress must have…" She took a deep breath. "She contracted a form of tuberculosis. We had to take her off of the immunosuppressants. Prognosis was very positive. And then… her kidneys failed. The SLE. She didn't make it."

"No donors?"

She shook her head. "Annette and I were both willing, but she never stabilized enough for surgery."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I." She gave me a wan smile. "She would have loved you. She was fond of your cousins, but Annette was her favorite. Would have given you a cute flower nickname, had you over for every holiday and half a dozen other times a year besides, doted like nothing else." Her gaze grew distant, and her smile a little warmer. "She loved flowers, and gardening whenever she felt up to it." Gram swallowed thickly. "I think that was the last straw for Annette. She settled down after Lilly died. Left the gang she ran with, and had you not even a year later."

Carol cleared her throat, and I noticed we'd arrived. Her eyes were red, tears threatening to fall. We all tactfully ignored the intrusion, Gram and I heading in to eat. I barely registered ordering, and only had half a mind for the food. "What about Uncle John?"

"Johnathan was a few years older than the others, six years older than Annette, who was three years older than Lilian. They didn't really connect as siblings until they were entering their late and early teens, respectively. He was protective of them, and they were respectful of him, but they were never as close as Lilian and Annette were. He was a good boy; very studious, good grades, successful in sports, very sharp mind. He was set to inherit the family businesses, while his sisters would each get several of our other investments. With Lilian's condition, we'd shifted many of them into the medical field, which was fairly lucrative. After her death… I continued. Funding additional research and development for chronic illness and disease, in her name. He went to Harvard for degrees in business and business law, and met Janet Fairbrook there. He'd said her family was a big name in Colorado of all places, but we both knew he'd just plucked up a pleasant farm-girl for himself. That's not to say she was dim, but she hardly came from money or influence. She was studying ecology, botany, and invasive species, with a particular focus on tumbleweed."

"T-tumble…what?" I sputtered.

Gram laughed. "That was much the same reaction I had. But from what I'd gathered over holiday discussions, it's an invasive weed that causes billions of dollars in ecological and infrastructure damage each year. So it's a field where millions are invested trying to find solutions."

I hated that that's where all of her opinions started. Money and influence. Even more, I hated that I was starting to understand it. The more power you have, the more power you can use. Money and influence were just the gauges of power the world worked on in modern times, at least outside the range of a parahuman. I hardly wanted to be one of those assholes hoarding millions of dollars just because I could, but I certainly wanted the power to help my city. I shook myself to try and drop those trains of thought for now. "How does it do that?"

"Tumbleweed?" She asked, and I nodded. "Russian Thistle; a dry ball of thorns that clogs machinery, needs thick gloves to handle, takes far too much time to remove, can bunch up across roads and against houses, and sparks into a fire easier than the driest crops it grows among. It's a greedy weed that leeches farmland and spreads exponentially, and it still causes billions in damage every year despite over a century of programs and initiatives to combat and exterminate it." Gram paused, gathering her thoughts for a long moment before she continued. "Of course, I'm just guessing based on information nearly two decades old at this point, and there are half a dozen other less pervasive thistles that are similar, but the point stands. There are many problems in the world, and quite a few make for rather profitable careers in working to solve."

We continued to chat for a bit, getting a few short stories from mom and her siblings' years growing up. The food couldn't last forever though, and I wasn't sure how much of Gram's style of storytelling I could stand in one sitting besides. My mind kept drifting, perhaps a tad unfairly, to the stereotype of the slightly-racist-grandparent. 'They're from a different age' with an unstated 'it's fine, they're going to die soon, anyway'. I didn't want that, and I didn't even want to think it.

Intrusive thoughts aside, the rest of the meal passed quickly enough. Then we were driven to Medhall. A gleaming edifice of glass and steel, it loomed over the nearby buildings. It was the tallest thing in this part of the city, east of the Towers. All of the buildings were relatively new, built in the 90s. I knew some of the squat buildings nearby they'd built later were younger than me, but I couldn't pick out which ones. They all shared the same modern aesthetic. Sterile, medical, and minimal. A shining beacon withstanding all the city's ills, slowly pulling it out of its watery grave as the compound slowly expanded into the commercial district to the west, and downtown to the east.

I hated it. I'd been fairly neutral about it before, maybe feeling a bit positive about them as a thriving industry keeping the city afloat, but now all I could see was the rot this shiny facade was built to hide. This was why we couldn't beat the Empire. They'd made themselves a cornerstone of the city, entrenched to the point where excising them might well kill it for good, all while hiding behind their masks. Going home, dressing up, smiling for the papers and shaking hands with politicians. It was impressive. It was smart. It was infuriating.

We got out in the private lot, which Gram had a temporary pass to access for the duration of her visit to Brockton. Not even the employee lot, the closer and nicer one reserved for shareholders, higher-ups, and the CEO. This close, the building stretched into the sky, vast and terrible, broken up by well-manicured shrubbery and trees that were difficult to see before we'd gotten past the second card-gate. The executive entrance was far too opulent for what amounted to a short hallway leading to the elevator, the room all brushed steel and chrome, with plants by the door and art sprinkled everywhere else. To the left was the elevator, and immediately opposite stood what appeared to be a literal marble bust, according to its plaque depicting one Richard Anders in memoriam.

Knowing this was what Kaiser chose to look at every time he ascended to his office changed the impression considerably. The motif was obviously some form of rubbing his metal-based powers in his employees' faces, while the bust just made me think there was more than hot air to the rumors that Kaiser killed Allfather to take over. I know I wouldn't want to see the face of someone I loved and missed every day before and after work. I just couldn't think of why else it'd be set up this way.

Ruminating on it took the entire trip to the upper floors, where the doors opened to reveal a statuesque blonde woman waiting for us. "Ah, good. You're here." She stated, appearing completely unsurprised to my powers. Maybe informed by security, so she could be here at the right moment? She looked a bit like a secretary, wearing a dressy blouse and pencil skirt, but my gut was screaming not to trust that assumption. She took a moment to adjust her glasses and motioned down the hall. "If you'd follow me, please?"

Seeing that I nearly reached up to adjust the glasses I no longer wore, but stopped myself before my hand raised too far. Old habits were hard to kick sometimes. We passed by what I could only call a penthouse office from what I could see through the windows in the hallway, with a set of far more reasonable offices on the other side next to the elevator. The next door on the right was a large conference room, which was already sparsely populated.

"Taylor, is that you?" Called a familiar voice.

I stopped and stared, blinking a few times, but that didn't stop being- "Mr. Alcott?"

He laughed. "Ohh, now. I've told you to call me Chris, haven't I?"

"Ah, yes. Of course." I agreed, still grappling with how surreal it felt to find Dinah's father sitting here in a den of Nazis. I was so focused on dealing with 'the enemy' today that seeing a friendly face was throwing me off far more than it should. There was a chance I might've recognized him before now if I was wearing my usual fake shoes, but I wouldn't put good odds on it.

Now that I thought about it, he had mentioned Medhall at one point. Sitting on the board in the place of his very busy brother-in-law, the mayor. Part of why the Alcotts and the Christners were as wealthy as they were was because they both had fairly significant stakes in Medhall. Things I'd learned like a month ago, and forgot between then and learning who Kaiser is.

"If I'd known you were the granddaughter… well, never mind. It's good to see you!" He called boisterously, pushing himself to his feet and walking over to shake my hand. "I hadn't for the life of me thought to see you here." The feeling was mutual. "But, no, I'm sorry, that came out wrong. You should be proud of her!" He spoke first to me and then to Gram. After that he started addressing the room at large, belied by his tone and volume even though he stayed focused on Gram. "She's a smart, well-connected young woman. She's even been tutoring my Dinah, helped her catch up in her classes when the best hires couldn't."

I could feel my cheeks heating up while I stood rigidly by the table, just hovering awkwardly. He continued on; talking about Dinah's headaches and how she's been feeling better lately– thank you for asking, Robert. I took the time to scan the room. Gram had started chatting with the only woman who was here before us, once Mr. Alcott's focus shifted away. From the conversation, she represented a collected investment firm whose constituents collectively warranted a representative in the board meetings, and while she was older than most of the room it wasn't by much, unlike Gram. 'Robert' was a fairly trim man in an expensive suit with salt-and-pepper hair. There were three other men in less expensive suits, two of whom were shades of blond.

None of whom were Max Anders.

The introductions started after that. First up was Robert Stansfield, whom I recognized by name as the guy who ran most of the local hotels and a bunch of the housing firms. Easily one of the five richest men in Brockton Bay, though I couldn't tell you where he fell on the list. If you lived in an apartment and it wasn't some big coast-spanning company running the place, chances were he was your landlord's boss. At least that was the scuttlebutt around Winslow, where most of the kids there had lived in said apartments. I hadn't been at Arcadia long enough to tell the ratios there, but I couldn't help but feel it probably skewed more towards families that could afford houses.

The blondes were Eric Miller and Derrick Leistrom, something familiar tickling at my brain about the latter. Both of them were department heads; Marketing and HR, respectively. The brunette was James Fliescher, who ran a pharmacy chain like Gram's. Apparently the two knew each other, at least as direct competition for their companies. The woman from the firm was Melissa Goldsmith, while the secretary was Jessica Bierman.

Ten more people showed up over the next fifteen minutes, most of them also department heads. It wasn't until one of them asked where Max was that I noticed the meeting was late to start. Gram and I had sat off to the side, a full half of the women present in a room full of white men, and were just listening to the gossip filling the air. I'd need to ask later if this ratio was normal, or if this was indicative of the Nazi problem.

Around then I managed to detect a pair of figures in the big office. A man and woman, the man rifling through the desk for paperwork while the woman appeared to be speaking while checking her phone. A couple minutes later, they came in through the door leading directly from the office to the board room. I was a little surprised to see the woman was the splitting image of Jessica, without the glasses.

"Apologies for the wait." Max Anders stated to the room. "It's been an inordinately eventful weekend, and we're only just seeing the fallout in full." He continued, making his way to the head of the table. The twin sat next to her sister, while their boss set down the folder he was holding and began orating, speaking with his hands. "The city's two largest cape gangs are up in arms. One fracturing after losing their capes, and lashing out. The other lashing back reflexively. The city is not a safe place at the moment, and I'm sure all of our thoughts go to our friends and families in these dark times. To that end, I would like to propose that we move immediately to urgent business and then adjourn for this month's meeting. I can have a paper report assembled for our shareholders within a day or two, and we can handle internal concerns while we're putting that together." He paused to let the table digest that. I caught him glancing at Gram and I, an assessing look in his eyes. In a moment it was gone, and he was addressing the table again. "It isn't just the gangs. I've had word that several of the city's unions are shutting their doors, and that a large number of classrooms stand half-empty while students are held at home for the day. I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who wants to get to the bottom of what's happening in my city, and make sure my family are safe in this chaos. All in favor of an accelerated meeting?"

Inwardly, I was seething. I knew he just wanted more time for Kaiser to spend managing the Empire. How dare he use what Dad, Sue, and I were doing to push his agenda? One by one, hands went up, until more than half of them were. I suppose at the very least this meant I would also be able to go home sooner. There were things I had to get done too, but I wasn't going to kid myself into thinking I could do more good for the city in an afternoon than he could undo just as easily in the same time. I had the power, but not the connections or influence to leverage it properly. Not yet.

The meeting itself was boring. Not because it wasn't interesting, but because so much of it went over my head. I didn't know what drugs they were talking about, or why their projected costs or timetables were significant because I had nothing to compare it to. I didn't know enough about marketing to know why the latest initiative was increasing profits, made worse by the fact that the man was frustratedly clicking through three quarters of his slides without addressing them. I just felt I'd understand so much more with just a few more breadcrumbs to follow.

Throughout all of it, Kaiser sat watching imperiously. Occasionally he'd give a nod, or shift his hand in a 'move along' motion to speed the proceedings. When the last presentation finished- the HR guy talking about the hours budget- Max stood and clapped his hands once. "And with that, we've covered the essentials. The detailed report will be drafted and delivered alongside the general newsletter, Wednesday at the latest. Thank you all for coming, and I apologize again for the brevity."

Everyone else started getting up after that. Directors left for their jobs, hands were shaken, goodbyes were said, but a significant chunk of the room stuck around as minor small-talk commenced between pairs and trios. A few minutes later, Max had woven his way through the social circles and made his way to Gram and I. "I'd like to apologize again, that your first visit to one of our board meetings was so atypical. We've always appreciated your support, and understood that you've had your own obligations in New York keeping you there."

Gram took his outstretched hand in a visibly firm shake. "It is no trouble. I understand these events are well outside our control, and felt I would be remiss to not take advantage of being in the city while I was here."

"Ah, yes. Something about your young heiress?" He gave me a charming smile and held out his hand. "Max Anders, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

I didn't really have a choice but to take it, grimy as it made me feel to do so. Gram was silent in the pause, and I had to wrack my brain for how little I could politely allude to without giving away too much. "I was… hospitalized. Gram came down to check on me."

"That's terrible. What happened?" His voice sounded honestly concerned, but I could tell he felt intrigued and excited; searching my situation for something he could make use of.

I glanced to Gram, who tilted her head forward very slightly. I ground my teeth, looking back at Kaiser. He'd probably go digging and find out anyway, if I said nothing. "It was… a 'prank' gone wrong, at school."

His lips tried to pull back into a wry smirk, caught instead between his teeth as he faked a worried face. He was wracking his mind for something. "No, that incident at Winslow, in January?" I turned a sharp glare on the wall beside us, all but confirming it. "I've heard terrible things about that school, but only the barest of rumors. No one I know has children there." Then he focused on Gram. "Do you need any assistance handling the situation? I understand you wouldn't have as many connections locally…"

I hated feeling ignored like this, which let the urge to cut in boil over. "I've already transferred to Arcadia. Winslow is such a dumpster fire there's nothing to target or get from it that wouldn't just destroy the school. Honestly the best thing you could do for it is somehow target the gangs, get the banger kids locked up or expelled, anything that'd let the faculty actually act when they should instead of cowering and ignoring all of the school's problems. Stop sweeping the 'little' problems like what happened to me under the rug."

"Ahh, not much I can do about that I'm afraid." He stated mournfully, inwardly giddy. "I can see what shakes loose asking the police commissioner and school board, though."

'As a favor' went unsaid. "We have our own leads, but honestly I'd prefer to just move on and put it all behind me."

"Very mature of you." He nodded, then checked his watch. "Sadly I have other matters to attend to. I asked for a shorter meeting for a reason, after all. If you ever have need of anything, my door is always open."

"Of course." I replied, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible, tamping as hard as possible on the fury and tension roiling inside. It was an effort of will to work my jaw and fidget my hands rather than clench them. Hopefully I looked nervous, rather than furious. "I'll be sure to keep it in mind in the future."

He nodded, shaking my hand again and patting my shoulder in an overly familiar gesture I'm sure he intended to be comforting. We left immediately, and as we descended I could tell Anders was talking to Mr. Alcott. Likely getting the same spiel about me I'd heard before the meeting.

"You did well." Gram broke the silence, as soon as we were outside.

"I nearly killed him."

"Nearly." She repeated in a flat tone, and I suppose that little distinction made all the difference.

With the meeting over, I took out my phone to un-mute it. Then I stopped, silently stunned at the number of missed calls. Twenty calls, and a dozen voicemails, all from Amy. I held up a finger to halt Gram, before calling her back.

It picked up halfway through the second ring. "You fucking bitch, do you have any idea  what happened last night!?" She nearly shrieked into my ear.

I held the phone several more inches from my face. "N-no?"

Amy shrieked wordlessly for a couple seconds. "No, I will not calm down!" She yelled, sounding like she'd pulled the phone away and was talking to someone else. "Yes, it is nece-" She paused, audibly growling. "Fine!" Shifting sounds and her voice coming clearer followed. "Just… get here. Now? Now."

"Are you oka-" I paused, pulling the phone away. She hung up on me? Huh. "Well, I suppose I know what I'm doing next…" I relayed what little I understood of the situation to Gram, and we left for the Dallons' after that.