Tracer had been in the same place he'd been for the last week, during the day at least - at the Nook, watching the immigrant workers make an acceptable space out of the rubble left behind by less connected owners. They were good workers - even better after he'd started providing them with pot and shrooms while they worked, after Faith assured him that the most dangerous parts were over.
They said another week, and the upstairs would be finished too, save for the painting. It was amazing how efficient they were when they had something to work for.
He came into the apartment and he couldn't feel Speed, but he could feel Harmony and he sought him out immediately, sighing in a mix of happiness and sadness at the waves of grief around him like an aura. Grief wasn't ever a good thing, but when it was there when so long nothing had been there, it was better than nothing.