You have tried to stay away from the Rangers as much as you can. You've been here, sure, but it's always been with a purpose. Like now. Certainly not often enough to risk being associated with them.
"Can I help you?" she repeats, a little louder this time. "If you're just hiding from the rain, you have to do that elsewhere. This is a government facility."
"Of course, I understand…Claire?" you say after a glance at her name tag, keeping your smile as customer-service polite as hers. "I'm here to see Ortega. If he's in," you add, hoping to ease the tension.
"Let me check…." She looks down at the computer but is interrupted by a cheerful greeting.
"Garrett Helton!"
"What?" You suppress a groan because his thoughts hit you before you've even turned around. But when you do, it's with a bland smile on your face. "Oh. Herald." Your tone is polite because while it's annoying that he uses your name, you did tell him to do exactly that. Better than Sidestep. Still, the familiarity makes you cringe, especially since you don't know his name. He's still Herald to you.
Not that you really care. Herald is your enemy, plain and simple. You don't need to know his civilian identity or his life story.
"I hope I wasn't too personal?" Herald lights up the way he always does on your rare visits. He looks shorter now that he has landed. It always catches you off guard, having to look down. Usually, he likes to hover a few inches off the ground.
Did he land out of politeness? Perhaps. He's not in costume, just a pair of skinny jeans and a slightly too tight T-shirt with some art print. Is he back on active duty or not after his injury? You're not sure.
"Ortega told you my name already. It's not an issue." You suppress a sigh. Herald's eagerness to get closer is one of the reasons you have avoided the Rangers. You have enough problems with Ortega. "Is he around? I've got something I want to run past him."
"He's out for the moment, but he should be back soon." Herald nods toward the elevator. "If you want, I can take you up to the break room. It's nicer to wait there than in the lobby. Fewer eyes." The last is offered with a nervous laugh.
"Much appreciated." You don't show your surprise. Is it this easy to get access to the Rangers' headquarters? If you had known, you might never have had to possess Lady Argent. Herald would probably give you a tour if you asked.
"It's been a long time since you were here; you're welcome to come by more often, you know?"
"This place still makes me feel uncomfortable." You note that the receptionist has decided to leave this to Herald. Good, for once, you're not annoyed that he showed up. This will get you through the door and maybe even yield some useful information.
You didn't foresee Lady Argent going after you on her own, which is why you are here today. Something is going on; you can't afford to let yourself be caught off guard again. Is she more of a loose cannon than you thought? Was this approved by Marshal Steel? If you had paid more attention to their team dynamics, you wouldn't have been surprised.
And where was Ortega?
"Uncomfortable?" Herald's voice drags you back to the present. "Why?" The question is innocent enough that you almost laugh before you realize that he's serious, and you'd better come up with an answer.
"Because it reminds me of what I've lost." You look away, pulling off your wet coat to have something to do with your hands. The coat is thin; Los Diablos is getting hotter every year as the world slowly recovers from the volcanic eruptions. Maybe you should have left it at home, but you feel more comfortable with layers.
"I'm sorry." Herald looks like he realizes how much of his foot ended up in his mouth, but you're not interested in making him feel better. He needs to realize that you don't have powers anymore, you're a perfect nobody, and you want to stay that way.
"It's fine," you say, making sure to sound tired and bitter but not angry. You don't want him to apologize again. "I'm dealing with it."
"But are you?" he asks, once again letting his mouth run away with him. "Really?"
"You sound like Ortega." You drape your coat over your arm, pleased that it protected you from the worst of the downpour. Still, the moisture makes the sleeves cling to your arms, unpleasantly constricting, like your past.
"Maybe he's got a point." Herald presses the button and the elevator slides shut. He doesn't take up as much room as Ortega; even hovering, he has a slighter presence. Or maybe it's the fact that there's no history here that makes him less…intrusive.
"Maybe…," you sigh, playing the part of the retired hero. "Just don't tell him that."
"He knows you, though, maybe you should…" The glance is quick and nervous. Is he worried he's getting too personal?
"He thinks he does," you interrupt, not bothering to hide the derisive snort. Ortega likes to pride himself on how much he knows you, but he really has no idea what's going on in your life. Otherwise he would have stopped you already.
"Maybe…" Herald is cut off as the doors slide open before you have reached your floor, revealing Lady Argent in the doorway scowling at the two of you.
For the briefest of moments everyone freezes, caught off guard, and then you…