With Armsmaster's death, Miss Militia is promoted to team captain. Even with the losses, however, the Protectorate ENE doesn't get new capes—all teams got hit hard by the last Endbringer attack, and even though it was by all accounts a major victory, it did not cause capes to start lining up to join.
Days pass, and winter hits Brockton Bay. It's pretty mild, as winters go, but it's enough to drastically reduce criminal activity. The heroes have an altercation with white supremacists the following week, but nothing much comes of it, as cape muscle seems to prefer to remain comfortable inside. Capes nationwide are somewhat subdued, perhaps as the aftermath of the victory against Behemoth. Nothing much seems to change, however—the Simurgh continues to fly around in her unpredictable pattern, Leviathan continues to be impossible to locate, lurking in the depths of the ocean. The public gets hopelessly contradictory information about what really happened during the fight from unofficial sources, secretly fed from official ones to make sure people don't jump to the right conclusions, and the topic loses its momentum.
And all of this completely fails to distract Sadde, who seems to not be getting better from the post-battle funk. Or, at least, not straightforwardly better. The depression and fatalism turn—maybe not completely, but at least a bit—into unease and anxiety, or perhaps stir craziness. It is, after all, true that, other than for class, Sadde doesn't really leave HQ a whole lot, not since they reached the comfortable position of being able to patrol from the comfort of the console—of, in fact, being more effective when doing that, for the average uneventful patrol.
Fatalism, depression, anxiety, and unease, all combined into a Sadde-shaped ball, are currently floating upside down in Lorica's workshop, failing to read a book while she fugues.
"I don't really need anything, it was mostly just window shopping without the glass in the way. I would like to have some kind of souvenir, though."
"Any particular kind of souvenir in mind?" he asks, starting to lead the way again after having paid for the food.
"Not picky. Something to remember you by." She blushes when she says that.
Oh no he flustered her she doesn't even know he has a girlfriend.
—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
"—I, um, it may be relevant that I kinda have a girlfriend. Uh. Monogamously." He needs to clarify this because, well, it's the relevant aspect of having a girlfriend.
"It's - it's fine -" It's not fine, this poor girl, he just bought her ice cream and took her out to lunch and didn't even tell her he had a girlfriend, he's horrible.
"No, I, I really should've told you earlier, it, kinda never seemed like the right moment and, and I'm terrible."
"What's she like?"
Well, she never looks at him like that, does she, vulnerable and soulful.
"She's really, really smart—she's the, uh, friend I cape geek at, I should've mentioned it there, but—and very driven? When she wants a thing she goes and figures out how to get it and then does that thing. She's very, umm, she's the taking-charge kind of person? Very introverted, doesn't really socialize much..."
Chelsea nods. And looks up at him through her eyelashes. "Probably bisexual to match and everything."
"Uh, no, actually, she's, uh, straight."
"But you're not always a boy, right?" God, isn't that annoying? Like, almost half the time -
"Yyeah, I mean when I'm a girl we can't kiss or stuff, but we're still, like, dating, and we hug, and talk, and stuff."
"It's, you know, I had kinda expected it since always, so it's not that bad. It wasn't too likely I'd end up finding someone who wouldn't mind."
"Oh, that's so sad, though," Chelsea says. "There are plenty of people who do like girls and boys and in-betweens."
"Statistically, not all that many. It'd, like, have been nice to find someone who does, but not terribly probable."