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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.
"But, I mean, if you're happy -" he's not happy "then, then that's good."
"I love her," he sighs. "And there's no such thing as a perfect relationship, right? I—wouldn't be dating her if I didn't think it was worth the sacrifice." But it is a sacrifice.
"You shouldn't have to settle. Settling's for people in their thirties."
She sticks the sticky note to his shirt.
"I—she really wouldn't mind hanging out as, as friends," he says, a bit helplessly. "Or, or, you know, just a tour guide."
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable so if you prefer not, then we'll... not... But I like you and today's being fun and I'd like to keep hanging out."
"Yep! I'm completely shameless and excitable as a ferret, the awkwardness will be gone in a second." He beams widely as if to prove his point.
"That's the spirit! So, souvenirs? There's this one gift shop close by that sells the same stuff you'll find on the Boardwalk but for half the price."
"Off we go, then!" And he resumes leading her. "So, you mentioned you don't have anyone to hike with anymore?"
"Oh, that's such a shame. Although I guess I'm not one to talk, I let akrasia of all things stop me."
"I think the definition is 'acting against one's better judgment through weakness of will.' Like when you set your alarm to snooze and then you have to run and skip breakfast because you're late, when you know you should've just gotten up the first time the alarm rang, or when you keep procrastinating going to the gym because it's just so boring."