Besca hugged her as she walked past, quick and tight, and only mumbled a quiet: “[color=gray]I know, kiddo,[/color]” on their way out. She kept close. When they reached the hangar, they found only a skeleton crew at work, along with the relatively small escort that would be accompanying them down. That was Caster’s doing, she guessed. A stalemate and begrudging understanding didn’t mean he wouldn’t still skimp on her where he could—besides, his people probably expected him to retaliate [i]somehow[/i] for her overstep. It was ultimately meaningless—and she figured he knew that, too. Local PD would have the whole studio cordoned off anyway, and here on home soil Besca doubted there was any real danger. If he tried pulling something like this in Casoban or Eusero, then, well, there’d be words. A smaller railing sprouted up around a smaller, inner section of the great elevator, still more than enough for the dozen or so departees. The replacement had been designed for compartmental decent, which was honestly refreshing. This way, they wouldn’t need half a mile of clearance every time they wanted to send down less than their entire force. A series of checks from the control room. Loud buzzes, clicking. Green lights flashed along the railing, and with a decompressing [i]hiss[/i], they began to descend. The hardlight channel was not red this time, but almost entirely translucent, like they were dropped through a glass tube. Mona’s studio was in Dorsey, a smaller city encircled by hills and spiderwebbed with thick runs of pastel trees. Even with so many leaves fallen, the world below them was a soft blur of pale blues and gentle pinks. Pockets of seafoam and amethyst dotted the brushy veins, wind lifted and twirled the fallen leaves, made the earth a rippling kaleidoscope broken only by the rises of a few tall buildings. Besca leaned against the railing, smiling wistfully. “[color=gray]When I was little, my mom used to tell me how beautiful Runa was. Her grandparents were born here, and she always talked about taking me and my cousins to see their old home in hills outside of Queenshand.[/color]” Her eyes turned to the horizon, to the setting sun and the sky so vivid and contrasting to the pastel world below. “[color=gray]Even on the hardest days, when I look down here, I get a little reminder of what it is we’re fighting for. What we’re [i]really[/i] fighting for.[/color]” She looked back to Quinn. “[color=gray]What you’re helping protect.[/color]”