Who will lay down their hammer? Who will put up their sword? Etienne kept her phone on her. She stripped out of her jeans and into the impact clothing built much in the style of her father. Friction-resistant padding, like they made motorcycle jackets with. It was a heavy pair of black pants and a coat that matched, all of it perfectly tailored to her. It was stashed in the back of her closet. It was, for all intents and purposes, her 'uniform' when needed.
Fuck all if it wasn't needed right then.
She locked up and tucked keys and phone into a reinforced pocket. They'd be safe in there.
And then she scaled a building. She'd learned the roof systems here long ago. She got onto the roof, and took off running, shimmying between buildings and using the entire length of herself to vault from one roof to another. So it went, across east Providence, hand over hand across cable lines, spider-monkeying her way between fire escapes. Around the back of the canal, where bare trees made webs strong enough that she could crawl out to the thinnest limbs and find something solid to catch herself on when she lept.
She shimmied down a tree, and when her feet hit the ground, she fucking ran like the devil was on her heels.
Etty saw him before he spotted her, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. She ran harder, and didn't even say hello, didn't say a word. She just vaulted at him, hanging from his shoulders amidst the chaos.