The building took stock of itself the way it always did after something hard, quietly and in pieces, people finding their corners and their people and processing the day in whatever way worked for them.
Michael felt it moving through the floors as he came up from the clinic, the particular texture of a building full of people who had been through something and were still here and were working out what to do with that. It wasn't loud. It wasn't celebration. It was something quieter and more durable than either of those things.
He found Cole in the courtyard.
Cole was standing over the third variant's body near the building entrance, looking at it with the systematic attention he gave everything, and he looked up when Michael came through.
"The withdrawal," Cole said.
"Thirteen southeast," Michael said. "One variant northeast, holding position in the outer blocks. It didn't approach with the others."
Cole looked at him. "It watched."
"Yes," Michael said.
