I limped into the debriefing room like I'd survived a car crash. Which, given that Nolan hit with approximately the same force as a sedan doing seventy, wasn't far off.
Reeves stood at the whiteboard with her arms crossed, still in her hero costume, those ruby eyes tracking my movement across the room. Noel sat in the front row with her portfolio open, posture perfect despite having spent twenty minutes unconscious on concrete. Usagi perched on the edge of her seat, fingers twisting together, looking at me like she wanted to apologize for something that wasn't her fault.
"Sit," Reeves said.
I dropped into a chair near the back. Everything hurt. The healing was working—I could feel ribs knitting themselves together with that itchy, uncomfortable sensation of accelerated regeneration—but the process took time. More time than I currently had before the rest of my afternoon exploded.
