Rose's gaze snagged on Marx as he passed.
"Who's that," she asked Felicity without lowering her voice.
Felicity smiled. "Marx."
Rose's brow lifted. "Why does he look like he's thinking too hard."
Marx glanced back, startled to be perceived. "I'm not thinking too hard."
Rose stared him down. "That's worse."
Marx looked faintly offended. Then he looked at Felicity, as if pleading for help.
Felicity smiled sweetly. "Rose is like that."
Rose waved a hand as if dismissing the concept of being like anything. "Go arrange housing," she said to Marx and Sarge, "Go. Make sure it's defensible and not damp. If she ends up sleeping in mold I'll set you on fire."
Sarge nodded calmly like this was normal. "Yes, Rose."
Marx hesitated, then nodded too, and they moved off.
Legend and Pope drifted toward the perimeter route with Sam, speaking in low tones about patrol rotations and gate coverage. Rose watched them go with narrowed eyes.
"Who are they," Rose asked again.
