“Argh!” Pidge threw up her arms, exasperated, and then she stomped over to the corner to his travel bags. His tacsuit helmet sat on several stacked crakes of old junk. She picked it up and thrust it at him. “You’re going. End of discussion.”
“Pidge, if Carsten realizes I survived that explosion—”
“—he’ll be coming after you.” Pidge crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him, big brown eyes pummeling him with determination. Her tacsuit had been replaced with a green jacket with flowering vines embroidered down the sleeves, black pants and short black boots. She still wore a bayard at her hips.
“I. Don’t. Care. All I care about is getting Keith back and you,” she poked his chest and he flinched back, “with your shiny new abilities, are going to help.”
