Grief 7.7a
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Taylor sat on a sofa, her legs tucked behind her as she stared at nothing in particular. Her mind was awhirl as usual, the metaphorical hamster wheel in her head turning relentlessly as she tried to reason her way through a problem that was going nowhere fast. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the Wards' lounge, casting long shadows across the room's mix of cozy and clinical decor. Like the plush sofas that looked jarringly out of place against the stark, functional walls of the headquarters.
Another day in superhero central, Taylor thought wryly. She absently picked at a loose thread on her hoodie, her fingers tracing the worn fabric. It was an old comfort item, one she'd stubbornly refused to replace even after receiving the hush money from the PRT. Why bother? It's not like new clothes would make me feel any less out of place here.
That wasn't to say she hadn't bought plenty of new clothes, all that and makeup. The PRT apparently had plenty of staff that were focused on teaching the Protectorate's female capes how to primp and pluck and prepare themselves for the camera, even without the help of a makeup team. Taylor was still getting used to it, and a month of practice hadn't exactly made her a deft hand at it yet.
She let out a slight sigh, exhaling the air through her nose.
The soft, ambient light gave the room a warm glow, making it feel less institutional and more like a hybrid between a living room and an office. Taylor's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, its steady ticking a constant reminder of time passing. How long have I been sitting here? she wondered, realizing she'd lost track of the minutes... or was it hours? Probably better not to know.
The pneumatic hiss of the lounge doors opening startled Taylor from her thoughts. She tensed instinctively, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. Old habits die hard, even in this supposed safe space. As she recognized the figure entering, her muscles relaxed, though a different kind of tension took its place. Great, just what I need right now.
"Hey, Dean," she said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Taylor prided herself on her observational skills, but she knew Dean's empathic abilities would see right through her facade. Not that it matters. He'd probably just think I'm being moody again.
Still, old habits die hard.
Normally, she would have called him Gallant, trying to stick to cape-code. But out of costume, Taylor preferred real names.
More than anything, it felt more... genuine and grounding. Even after a month with the Wards, the concept of being a 'hero' felt surreal. The only tangible aspects were the mountain of paperwork she had to file and the laundry list of regulations she had to memorize as a Ward. Who knew being a hero took so much bureaucracy?
"Hey, Taylor," Dean replied, flashing a perfect white smile in her direction. It was almost perfectly measured to put her at ease, and Taylor couldn't help but draw comparisons. It was so different from his smile – no smarmy, aggravating cockiness that screamed how much better he thought he was. Stop it, she chided herself. You're not there anymore.
Dean settled onto another sofa at an angle to her, letting out a relieved sigh as he sank into the cushions. He glanced up at her again, his expression open and friendly. "What's up?"
Taylor shrugged, her curly hair falling forward to partially obscure her face. "Nothing much, y'know." Just the usual existential crisis, she added silently, her inner voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Mmmm," Dean hummed, nodding. "Same here, same old stuff."
They sat in silence for a bit, nearly half a minute of simple quiet that felt both comfortable and awkward to Taylor. She was still getting used to the idea of teammates, of people who genuinely seemed to care about her well-being. It's weird, having people actually want to talk to me. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Dean let out another sigh, rolling his shoulders and glancing her way again. "You mind if I run something by you?"
Taylor blinked, surprised. "Oh, uh... sure, yeah." What could he possibly need my input on?
Dean smiled, the expression warm and reassuring. "Great. You know how I'm kinda second-in-command, right?"
Taylor smiled back awkwardly, feeling a bit silly. "Kinda? Yeah, I do." Smooth, Taylor. Real smooth. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at herself.
Dean laughed, the sound genuine and lacking any hint of mockery. "Yeah, well, as second-in-command, I usually do regular check-ins with the team to see if everyone's doing good, what they feel could be done better, what anyone might need, y'know, before running it by Carlos – err, I mean, by Aegis."
Taylor nodded, memories of her own check-in surfacing. "I remember mine, yeah."
It was... actually pretty helpful, she admitted to herself. Dean was an effective number two, from what she'd seen, and he tried hard to make up for any shortcomings, real or perceived. Honestly, Carlos' job would probably have been way harder without him. Dean seemed to meet everyone's needs before they even realized it half the time — the other half, he knew when they needed to make the first move themselves before an issue could actually be solved. Taylor knew part of it had to do with his empathy power, but even still, no one could really complain about the way Dean used it. Except maybe me, right now.
"Yeah, that was over a month ago, though," Dean said, giving her a warm look that made Taylor want to squirm. "And I was thinking that you might need a follow-up."
Taylor felt a knot forming in her stomach. "No, I don't... I don't think so." Please, just let it go, she silently pleaded, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the loose thread on her hoodie.
Dean nodded slowly, his smile turning concerned. "I get that, I do and I see where you're coming from..."
Taylor knew he probably did, which only made her feel more exposed. She hunched her shoulders slightly, trying to make herself smaller, as if she could physically shrink away from the uncomfortable truth of Dean's words. He's right, she thought, a bitter taste in her mouth. I have been out of it.
"But I think so," Dean continued gently, his voice soft and understanding. "You've been out of it the last couple weeks, Taylor. It's okay to admit that."
Taylor gave a noncommittal shrug, avoiding eye contact. She focused on a spot on the wall just past Dean's shoulder, counting the imperfections in the paint.
"It's okay to not be okay, you know," Dean said softly. "Sometimes talking helps more than we think."
She hesitated, fidgeting with the zipper on her hoodie, the metal cool and smooth under her fingertips. The familiar motion was comforting, giving her hands something to do as her mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in a chaotic jumble. He's just trying to help, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. But how can I explain something I barely understand myself?
Taylor's hand rose to tug at a strand of her curly hair, a nervous habit she'd never quite shaken. "It's nothing... Well, maybe not nothing. Just old ghosts, I guess." She said the last few words with a sigh.
Dean leaned forward slightly, his body language open and attentive. "Old ghosts?"
Taylor took a deep breath, steeling herself. You can do this, she told herself, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest. "I don't know. It's just... Greg just... seeing him, he just brought up a lot of things — things that I thought were behind me. But I guess they're not. I guess they're still inside me, still haunting me." The words tumbled out, each one feeling like a small weight lifted from her chest, a tiny bit of the pressure easing.
Dean's frown deepened, confusion flickering across his handsome features. "Greg?"
Taylor turned to face him, blinking in surprise. "Oh…my bad," she mumbled, feeling a flush creep up her neck. Way to go, Taylor. Bringing up random people like he's supposed to know who you're talking about.
It made sense that Dean didn't remember Greg. He had only met him once, for a grand total of two minutes a few weeks ago at the fundraiser gala. And right after that brief encounter, the event had been crashed by those villains with the giant monster dogs, the ones she half-remembered from her first chaotic night out as a hero. Hellhound and her crew, Taylor recalled, the memory sending a shiver down her spine. Just another day in Brockton Bay, she thought dryly, a humorless smile tugging at her lips.
"The blond guy from the gala," Taylor clarified, fidgeting with her sleeves. "The—" She paused, searching for the right word. "I guess, the pretty boy." That's new, she muttered under her breath, still processing that particular development, as well as the fact that Greg had apparently hit a growth spurt, now standing a good few inches taller than her. When did that happen? "The rude one," she added, louder. "Who called you guys 'kiddy heroes' or something like that?"
Recognition dawned on Dean's face, his eyes widening slightly. "The angry one, yeah. I remember now."
Taylor blinked again, caught off guard. "Angry?" She frowned, trying to recall the interaction. She really hadn't gotten the impression that Greg was angry. Rude, definitely. Tactless, absolutely. But angry? Not unless I completely misread the situation, she thought, doubt creeping in. Did I miss something?
"Yeah." Dean nodded, his expression thoughtful. "The guy's holding a lot of anger inside. It's like... it's deep down, but it's there. Like it's wafting off him, like smoke from a hidden fire. I don't even think he notices it himself."
"Huh." Taylor filed that information away, adding it to the mental dossier she'd been unconsciously compiling on Greg Veder. Anger issues. Noted. It wasn't what she expected, but it fit, in a strange way. Maybe that's why he's always so... intense.
Dean's voice softened, his tone gentle but firm. "Taylor, I know you don't want to talk to me about this, and that's okay. But it would help to talk to someone. Someone you trust, who won't judge you...."
Taylor sighed deeply, the sound coming from somewhere deep in her chest. "I guess. I just don't want to drag anyone else into my mess, you know? It's my problem, not theirs."
"It's not dragging anyone down if they're willing to walk through it with you," Dean countered, his words filled with a quiet conviction. "That's what friends do. They help carry each other's burdens. Besides, there's a reason people like therapy. Having someone that's not tangled up in your personal life... It's really helpful."
"Is it?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah, try someone you felt comfortable or safe with before… Well, before us, I guess. Someone you can just unload everything onto."
Taylor blinked slowly as she stared at Dean, the words resonating in her head. "Someone you can just unload onto..."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
May 29th, 2011
Taylor Hebert paced nervously atop a rooftop, frowning noticeably. The red and black of her outfit stood out starkly against the concrete expanse, her voluminous twin-tailed black hair fluttering slightly in the noon breeze. She couldn't help but feel like a target, exposed against the gray backdrop of Brockton Bay's skyline.
She wasn't sure why she was doing this.
Scratch that. She knew why.
She knew exactly why.
The reasons tumbled through her mind like a swarm of agitated insects, each thought buzzing with its own anxiety. Taylor bit her lip, a habit she'd never quite shaken. Dean had given her the courage to just go ahead and get it over with, but now that she was here, doubt crept in like a chill down her spine.
"This is stupid," she muttered under her breath, her words carried away by the wind. "What am I even doing here?"
Taylor's fingers fidgeted with the zipper of her PRT™ approved Lady Bug purse, the first of many that were soon to be manufactured for the masses of little girls to accessorize just like their "favorite magical pretty young bug-themed heroine". The thought made her cringe inwardly. She'd never been one for frills and bows, and now here she was, a walking billboard for cutesy merchandising, pitching up her voice like she was right out of one of those Japanese cartoons.
"Fuckin' Glenn," she grumbled, remembering how the local Protectorate branch's PR head had spun her debut into something straight out of a children's show. Her team had warned her of how irritating the man would be, but Taylor had underestimated just how aggravating Chambers actually was. The memory of their first meeting still made her want to roll her eyes so hard they'd fall out of her head.
Granted, it wasn't entirely his fault. Her given name had been broadcasted all over the internet thanks to Uber & Leet's camera drones that first night out and...
Taylor shook her head, trying to dispel the memory. That night had been a mess, a jumble of adrenaline and fear and exhilaration.
And then there was her association with White Knight.
That same night was really what made the situation what it was.
"A magical girl," Taylor scoffed, glancing down at her outfit. "Seriously?" She found herself asking the same question at least once a week looking at herself in the mirror. The red peacoat with its black polka dots felt more like a stage-costume than ever, a far cry from the practical, tactical outfit she'd initially imagined for herself. Even now, her voice was still pitched up, Taylor so used to doing so that it had pretty much become instinct anytime she was dressed in red.
Thankfully, Glenn didn't ask anything of her other than to pitch up her voice while in costume, no horrendous accent but...
Taylor rolled her eyes at the memory of her official debut to the press. They'd had her rush on stage hidden behind a cloud of quickly dispersing ladybugs to sell the whole thing.
It had been mortifying, like something out of a cheesy kids show intro.
With a sigh, Taylor pulled out her phone from her purse, an alien object in her hands despite its necessity.
Her phone.
That was still really hard to get used to.
If it wasn't for the fact that the PRT required her to carry one of their devices, she wouldn't even be touching it. The thing still felt awkward to hold. The black polka-dotted red case it came in, even more so.
"Just another thing to get used to, I guess," Taylor muttered, her fingers hovering over the screen. She rotated through the apps on the device, spinning the navigator until she found the one she was looking for, the large "P" centered on the globe behind it. Parahumans Online. The forum where she'd arranged this meeting.
Her finger hovered over it, wondering whether to send another message. No, he said he'd be here at three.
Even still… He's late.
Taylor glanced at the time display, anxiety knotting in her stomach. It was already a quarter after three, and here she was in full costume standing on top of a rooftop not too far from the heart of Downtown.
"This was a mistake," Taylor whispered, hugging herself against a sudden chill. She barely felt comfortable doing this with her team by her side. Doing this now — she just felt exposed and, honestly, kind of silly. The area was too quiet, the usual buzz of the city muted from this height. It felt unnatural, like the calm before a storm.
As the minutes ticked by, Taylor's unease grew. She paced back and forth, her boots scuffing against the rooftop. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness. "Where is he?" she wondered aloud, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of fear. "Did he change his mind? Or is this some kind of trap?"
Taylor's mind raced through possibilities, each scenario more dire than the last. Was this all an elaborate setup? Had she walked right into an ambush? Her powers thrummed just beneath her skin, ready to call forth a swarm at a moment's notice. But no, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. She was just being paranoid. Wasn't she?
The cold knot of isolation in her stomach tightened as she scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of movement. The city sprawled out before her, indifferent to her anxiety. Taylor wrapped her arms around herself, the chill in the air compounding her unease. "Where is h-"
Taylor's words died on her tongue as she felt a ladybug die behind her several feet back. Her eyes widened, a jolt of alarm shooting through her as its presence in her mind winked out instantly. Crap, what was that?
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
Her eyes narrowed, muscles tensing as she whirled around and jumped back at the same time. The air around her erupted into a buzzing cloud of red and black, half a million ladybugs forming a defensive halo. Taylor's heart raced, adrenaline pumping as she scanned the rooftop for threats.
"Thou hast summoned me, from beyond the perilous clutches of the forums?" a voice boomed, clear and resonant as if speaking right into her ear. It was theatrically loud, like the speaker was right next to her instead of across the rooftop.
Taylor's eyes widened as she caught sight of who was speaking. Oh god, it's him. "Oh… I…" she stuttered, the words catching in her throat as she took in his appearance.
The speaker stepped down off the ledge, his blue cape fluttering gently in the light breeze. The sun at his back framed him like a halo, making Taylor squint slightly. He changed his costume, she realized with a twinge of disappointment. She hadn't known it until now, but she'd kind of liked the cobbled-together look of his previous outfit, down to the silver spray-painted armor. Even though it was clearly hand-made, it had still managed to look good on him.
More than anything, it had made him seem more... real, somehow.
Now, though, he wore a painted-white knight-inspired chestplate, with fancy gold detailing and a blue fleur-de-lis on the chest. A short blue cape draped over his shoulders, covering a padded blue long-sleeved shirt beneath. White gauntlets and padded white slacks with armored sections completed the whole look.
It was definitely more impressive, Taylor had to admit. But it also made her guest look a lot less approachable.
Kind of intimidating, even.
He just… looked less like a scrappy knight and more like a hero.
Taylor wasn't sure why that bothered her, why it was disappointing but she couldn't shake the feeling that something had been lost in the upgrade. Maybe it's just me being weird about change again, she thought, fidgeting slightly.
Matching blue eyes stared at her calmly from behind a blue mask trimmed with gold, partially hidden by a blue hood. A shock of blond hair peeked out from underneath. "Mine journey over the bay hath brought me to thy presence, O Lady of Bugs, and I beseech thee once more—hast thou summoned me?"
Taylor blinked, her brain taking a second to process the flowery language. "Wha…?" she managed, before catching herself with a quick nod. Get it together, Taylor. "Oh, y-you're doing a bit."
"Yeah, I'm doing a bit," the other cape answered, his expression calm and unchanging as he somehow kept that same Old English accent going even as he slipped smoothly back into modern language. "I thought we were on the same page." His eyes flicked around, taking in her swarm.
Taylor gaped a little bit, feeling more awkward than ever as the very last bit of her shock melted away. With a thought, her swarm quieted and fell away, the ladybugs she'd hidden atop the rooftop crawling back under the crevices. Better not look too aggressive, she thought. This is supposed to be friendly.
Friendly as it was, she wasn't planning on going into a meetup without some backup, after all. Half a million ladybugs and ladybug-lookalikes on the rooftop didn't seem like much, but the many, many other bugs in her range were ready if needed. She technically wasn't supposed to use them, but she was only strongly advised not to, not explicitly forbidden.
"S-sorry, we are… on the same page… yeah." She hoped the red of her domino mask made the blush on her cheeks much less noticeable. God, I sound like an idiot. Pull it together!
White Knight nodded, thrusting his arm out to the side with a single flourish of his cape.
"'Tis well!" He spoke again, immediately going back into his old-timey wording. In a quick rippling flare of blue light, a flat box appeared on his outstretched palm, steam still rising from it. Even from a couple yards away, Taylor could smell the aroma of fresh pizza wafting strong her way.
Her stomach growled quietly, reminding her that she'd skipped lunch to get here on time..
Sir Prodigy smiled at her, the look making her stomach do something that wasn't a growl. "Art thou inclined to partake in some baked, doughy fare?"
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Taylor bit down on the still-fresh slice of pizza, the pepperoni, sausage, onions, peppers and other toppings along with the dripping cheese exploding with taste in her mouth. "Mmmm…" She couldn't help the sound that escaped her. God, this is so good.
Her legs kicked happily as she sat on the edge of the five-story building, the large pizza box between her and Sir Prodigy on the other side sharing it with her. The breeze up here was cool against her skin, carrying the faint salty scent of the bay mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of the pizza.
It was nice, sitting up here away from everything.
Almost peaceful.
She opened her eyes as she chewed, to see Prodigy staring back at her, the knight-themed cape with a look on his face that sang of amusement, even with his face seeming perfectly calm as he took his own bite. His blue eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter behind his mask.
Taylor reddened again, turning away from her lunch partner as she chewed and swallowed rather quickly, before glancing back. Great, now I look like a pig. "What? I missed lunch," she said defensively, trying not to fidget under his gaze.
"I spoke not a word," the other cape answered, his voice carrying that exaggerated Old English accent. Taylor couldn't tell if he was making fun of her or not.
"Not out loud," Taylor shot back, surprising herself with her quick retort. Where did that come from?
Sir Prodigy rolled his eyes, the action so at odds with his Shakespearean persona, it almost overshadowed Taylor's shock at the way he almost inhaled the rest of his pizza, barely even chewing the thing before it vanished.
"I was unaware the Lady of Bugs possessed the prodigious gift of mind reading," he said, now fully smiling with perfectly unstained teeth which just wasn't fair. "Your enemies must tremble at your presence, their secrets laid bare," his smile brightened a little more as he glanced down toward the pizza box again.
"You think you're funny, don't you," Taylor couldn't help herself but blurt out. She immediately regretted it, worried she might have offended him. Smooth, Taylor. Real smooth.
"I know mine wit is sharp;" he took a bite of another slice, chewing and swallowing so quickly Taylor found herself staring. "'Tis oft the other's sense of humor that doth falter."
Taylor snorted and took another bite of her pizza, surprised at how comfortable she felt. This… is nice, she thought, then frowned. She'd only been at Arcadia High since school had started up after the bombing but she had yet to actually make any friends that weren't the Wards and well… the Wards might have been her new friends, but sometimes it kinda felt like they were more obligated to be her friends, so it didn't really feel as sincere as it should have.
Even Dean's kindness came with the overhanging specter of one simple fact; he was literally her boss. Well, next in-line to be her boss.
Not only that, but her boss who would be also be gone a few months after Aegis to be with the Protectorate. It just felt… less real. And here I am, having pizza with a random cape on a rooftop. What even is my life?
As she took another bite, her eyes caught on the intricate details of his armor—the gold accents shimmering slightly in the light, giving him an almost regal appearance. Definitely more hero than hapless knight now, she thought, still unsure how to feel about the change. The playful part of her wondered if the armor upgrade came with an increased ego or just better sponsorship deals. Maybe both?
Sir Prodigy watched her examine his costume, misinterpreting her scrutiny. "I hath improved mine armor," he said, gesturing to his breastplate. "Greater protection, swifter movement, and, well, doth it not appear more striking?"
Taylor nodded, her eyes flicking back up to meet his own. "It does look cool," she admitted. "Functional and flashy." She paused, lips pursed for a moment as she wondered whether to actually say what was on her mind. Should I tell him I liked the old one better? No, that'd be rude.
"I must inquire," Thankfully, she didn't have to talk just yet as the other cape chose to speak first. "How didst thou know 'twas I when thy sent the missive? There be many a false White Knight upon the forums."
Quickly parsing what he said, Taylor responded with a smile. Finally, something I can answer without sounding like an idiot. "That's pretty easy, honestly."
"Pray tell," he said, leaning forward slightly, his interest apparently genuine.
Taylor smiled, feeling a bit more confident. "You're the oldest account that has the name 'Sir Prodigy' with nothing else. All the fakers are focused on the name White Knight, like you said."
"Most clever indeed, my good lady," he replied, nodding approvingly. Taylor felt a small spark of pride at the compliment.
She hesitated for a moment, then decided to just go for it. "So... just as a heads up, you ever gonna give up the bit?"
Sir Prodigy fixed her with a look, his expression mock-serious. "I have yet to use the word 'prithee' in a sentence, so…" he paused for dramatic effect, "no."
Taylor narrowed her eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "You just did."
Sir Prodigy narrowed his eyes right back at her. "Hey… shaddup," he said, breaking character for just a moment.
Taylor snorted loudly and started laughing, unable to help herself. "Fair enough," she managed between giggles.
"So…" Taylor took a second to glance up again as he spoke, "What's up, Lady Bug?"
Taylor pursed her lips, shooting him a look as he slipped into modern lingo again. He's doing that to mess with me, isn't he? She looked him up and down, taking in his exaggerated posture and the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. His eyes sparkled with barely contained mischief behind his mask. Yeah, he definitely is.
She smiled despite herself and shook her head. Two can play at this game.
Sir Prodigy seemed to catch on to her amusement, quickly returning to his Old English: "There is a purpose to mine presence here. What might it be?"
Taylor hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "…Don't laugh, okay?"
"What dost thou take me for? I would never," he replied, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense.
Taylor rolled her eyes, fighting back a grin. "Of course. Okay, don't laugh… I just wanted someone to talk to, you know? About stuff…" She trailed off, fidgeting with the edge of her costume.
Sir Prodigy tilted his head, his voice softening slightly. "And I was thy choice?"
"Don't… don't say it like that," Taylor mumbled, feeling her face heat up. God, why did I even say anything?
"I'm not, though. I mean it, I'm glad I was your first choice." He smiled at her, bright white teeth shining as he looked her in the eye. The sincerity in his voice caught Taylor off guard.
Taylor felt her face redden even more. "I…" she started, then stopped, unsure what to say.
Sir Prodigy continued, his resonant voice and accent still strong, but with an undercurrent of warmth. "If I'm being honest, I was happy you messaged me."
Taylor looked down, fiddling with her fingers. Is he for real? "Really?" she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.
"A knight needs his lady," Sir Prodigy replied, his tone playful but not mocking.
Taylor shot him a look, trying not to blush again. "Shaddup," she muttered, but there was no real heat behind it.
"As you wish," he said with a slight bow. "So, pray, tell me—what is this matter?"
Taylor's hands fidgeted with her pleated black-polka dot patterned red skirt. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I've just been… having issues ever since I joined the Wards."
Sir Prodigy's voice slipped into something more modern for a second, catching Taylor by surprise. "Yeah, changes can be a killer."
"It's not just the new job," Taylor said quickly, then paused. How do I even explain this? "It's more like… I met this guy who I used to know a little while ago."
"Oh," Sir Prodigy said, his tone suddenly neutral.
Taylor's eyes widened as she realized how that sounded. She waved her hands frantically. "No, no, no, not like that. He was just some guy from school, but I… I guess I realized I thought I knew who he was and then he's just entirely different the next time I see him."
Sir Prodigy seemed to consider this for a moment before replying, "Mayhap thou hast misjudged him; such things occur oft. Was he perchance a knave or some such?"
Knave? Taylor blinked, frowning slightly. She rolled the unfamiliar word around in her head for a second before piecing together its meaning from context. She shook her head. "No, not a 'knave'. Or even a jerk, really. He was just kind of… a little annoying, but not, like, bad. I just had some bad memories with people associated with him and I guess it made me treat him worse."
Sir Prodigy leaned forward slightly, his voice thoughtful. "Then why dost thou not strive to resolve those matters with him?"
Taylor blinked, taken aback by the direct question. "Because… Well, I just… I don't know. It feels awkward."
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The last time I met him before that, I kinda yelled at him, but now I'm pretty sure he was only trying to help, even though he didn't really get what was going on. I was just overwhelmed at the time and… well… yeah."
Sir Prodigy nodded, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Alas, I can only do so much. It is my opinion that a parley with this fellow would accomplish far m-"
He paused as a beeping noise came from his pocket. Taylor watched as his demeanor shifted, his playful air giving way to something more businesslike. He held up a finger, looking apologetic for a moment as he dug a phone out of his pants pocket – a red clamshell that looked almost comically out of place with his knightly attire.
His face went serious as he flipped it open and raised it to his ear. "Speak," he said, his voice suddenly much deeper and commanding.
Taylor flinched at the sudden drop in his tone, the sound seeming to come from all around her. Whoa, what was that?
She watched as Sir Prodigy's face became more serious, his jaw clenching as the person on the other side told him something that he clearly didn't like. As the call came to an end, his expression slipped from grim to exasperated, a sigh escaping him. "Understood, on my way."
Pocketing the bright red flip phone, Sir Prodigy gave her a slightly strained smile and stood up on the ledge. "Apologies, my lady. This good knight must depart. Perhaps, we can meet on the morrow?"
Taylor couldn't help but giggle at his quick return to the 'Old English'-speak as she stepped back onto the rooftop and away from the ledge, staring up at the White Knight. "Perhaps," she replied, mimicking his accent.
"Fare thee well," Sir Prodigy said with a dramatic bow.
Before Taylor could respond, there was a burst of wind that sent her hair flowing back. She covered her face, squinting against the sudden gust. When she lowered her arm, she saw White Knight taking to the air, gliding across the rooftops like a large white bird.
Taylor stared after him, watching his back as he flew. Her smile grew a bit sadder as he disappeared from her sight, leaving her alone on the rooftop. The pizza box sat forgotten between them, a reminder of the unexpected connection they'd shared.
She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as the cool evening air settled in. Part of her wished he could have stayed longer, but she understood. That's what being a hero is about, I guess. Always on call.
As she gathered herself to leave, Taylor's eyes lingered on the spot where Sir Prodigy had been sitting. Despite the fancier new costume and the theatrical persona, there had been moments of real connection there. She couldn't help but draw parallels to her situation with Greg.
Maybe I should give him another chance, she thought, surprising herself. If Sir Prodigy can be both ridiculous and genuine, maybe there's more to Greg than I realized.
Taylor stood up, brushing off her costume and taking one last look at the city skyline. As she prepared to make her way home, a final thought crossed her mind:
"...Honestly, I still like his old costume better."