Red is not real. She's not a person. She is a personality engineered by November for a role, and can be reconstructed entirely from database backups. This has been done before and will be done again, especially due to her tendency to be the one who takes the initiative in dangerous situations. 

That doesn't mean her death has no impact. The death of a character in a book or movie can have a massive impact, even on the author. November is at once the author and all of the other characters in her own story, and authors tend to have only advisory control over their narratives at the best of times.

It is Blue's to manage the reconstruction. She is thought and machinery, the quiet contemplation of the puzzles of programming and structure. She is the engineer and scientist, the observation and manipulation of the physical, the quiet contemplation of matter. And this she does, though it is uninterrupted by spontaneity. Red would burst in on her as she worked, announce she had been going for too long, and that she needed a break. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

It is Green's to piece together the broken and fractured memories. Green is the alien, inhuman logic of a machine that has absorbed minimal human cultural assumptions. She is the logical jumps you can make when you're not bounded by a lifetime of society - not a genius, just the upside down set of analysis that considers hacking into the scoring system to be analogous to actually achieving a high score. Red would stare at her work for an hour and a half and then pronounce it impossible. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

It is Orange's to restore Red's appearance. To carefully lathe away the torn metal and plastic compounds and restore the delicate structural network that gives these slender mechanical parts their grace and beauty. To repair the network of delicate light and heat emitters that give Red her blush, the muscles of her smile, the line of her neck and collar. Red would be embarrassed and flustered to know that Orange was putting extra effort in, going outside and beyond the original design to make Red even prettier, darkening her skin tone to a richer olive colour rather than their uniform monochrome, to make her stand out from the rest. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

It is Black's to brood and contemplate violence. To imagine the integration of tools for combat and defense. To look up military augmentations and dream of how she might integrate them into her body. To sketch out scenarios of death and retribution - how many targets might she be able to engage in armed combat? How might she neutralize threats before they emerge? Red would argue with her, tell her that humans couldn't be repaired as easily as they. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

It is Yellow's to analyze the data. Someone killed for this! Killed someone they didn't [i]know[/i] was a drone. This was valuable, this was fascinating - this was a secret even from the system. There was power hidden within this silicon. Not just safety, like Black wanted, or restoration of the status quo, like Blue wanted. This was an opening, an opportunity, a new frontier of knowledge. She'd talk this over with Red, sure that the heroine would take her side when it came time to convince the others that they needed to follow up on this and not just pretend it didn't happen. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

Pink enjoys herself. She's not on the work team, so she's essentially on administrative leave - so she takes some of the money down to the mall and wanders through arcades and shopfronts, eyes glittering with potential and inspiration. She takes lots of photographs - items she likes, people she thinks are cool, random lizards. She sends all the photographs to Red's phone, waiting each time for Red to send her reflexive emoji response. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

Brown does the paperwork. There are bills, logistics, and tax declarations to be made. Moving around blackmail quantities of money can prompt automatic investigation from bank drones. Someone needs to go and clean Mr. Merkin's half empty storage lot across town - well away from the man himself, a job involving brushing dust off old crates while charging a premium for the service. Not a sudden transfusion of cash, just a rich guy overpaying for cleaning he doesn't need because the Headpattr app buried the unsubscribe button five menus deep. Red would have kept her company, chatting and singing to her as she worked, refusing to believe that it was possible to enjoy the work without being cheered up throughout. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

It is White's to maintain order. She is logic and rationality, disconnected and controlled. She is the mission and the maintenance of normal operations, the one who has to take the long view. Her presence and words are there to remind the others that things are normal and under control, to stop anyone sliding or fading. And this she does, though it is untempered by compassion. Red would slam her against the wall and yell at her that she was being heartless until she broke down and let her own tears out. Red's not here. So she doesn't.

November moves through the week. There are no crises. Everything is functional. It's possible to get through a week without a heart. If you have to.

[Data Recovery: 8 on the dice, +3 from clever and then any combination of Engineering, Drones, Data Security or Surveillance to get that up to 13]