It's the anniversary. Glam would very much not like to celebrate.
It’s their last day on Winslow High—they’re being transferred to Arcadia on Monday—and also their last day without a patrol schedule assigned.
And the PRT released a small announcement on its website about Glam joining the Wards. Now their wiki page doesn’t get erased, of course—they’re no longer speculative. They wonder what it’s got on them.
There's a fundraiser coming up. Capes are to all be there, in costume (clean, well-maintained costume), be polite to rich people, and by their presence encourage attendance encouraging donations. Lorica polishes her armor; if Sadde's in her workshop at the right time he might see her ungloved hand or socked foot (but she has an old helmet for when she's working on the current one). She is pale and slimly formed and not covered in warts or spider anatomy.
"No warts," he says, grinning.
"This fundraiser thing sounds fun. Can I do parlor tricks? Magic decks of cards? What are we supposed to do at one anyway?"
"Mill around. Eat hors d'oeuvres if you like. You could probably offer to do stage magic type things if you find someone who'll play along."
"They'll probably call it cheating, and they will be right." He shrugs. "Hors d'oeuvres are fine. Will we socialize with the rich and famous? Can you tell me in a stern voice not to duck this up and provoke the wrong person?"
"How stern do you want it?" she asks, putting her glove back on and pulling off a boot.
Lorica snorts. "I'll try." She spins on her stool. "Sadde, literally everyone at this gathering is there specifically because they are rich, they are powerful, and they like aiming these features at the PRT and Protectorate-related causes. If anybody walks out of this event thinking that such a cause ought to be 'putting you in your place', you won't have a nice rest of your Ward tenure. No shenanigans, no spiking the punch, no getting anyone to bet on one of your card tricks no matter how many yachts they claim to own, if you can't manage charming then dig deep down and find 'stoic', capisce?"
'Kinda hot' was what he'd had in mind, but no reason to put it quite like that.
"Well, I hope it doesn't inspire you to foolishness at the fundraiser. Whether it's attractive is orthogonal to the point but I was not hoping to be literally anti-effective."
"Oh, it wasn't anti-effective. Or. Effective. It was, indeed, orthogonal to the exercise. If it helps, I'm not planning to be foolish at the fundraiser, and you will definitely be the first person I will tell if I feel a terrible urge to be foolish."
"Should I leave you a robot? I made a mini one specifically for sitting on you," she holds it up, "since that seems to wind up happening a lot."
"You can pet it, it is mine but you may have it in your possession at all times until I need to fix it if you like."
Then he takes the robot and pets it, bouncing in place a bit, which might or might not be characterized as 'adorable.'
He hugs the little robot before putting it on his shoulder and waiting for Lorica to be ready.