"Slow and steady," she murmurs, "Methodical chaos." This would be dangerous. To them, and everyone they knew. Part of her feels guilty about planning, encouraging this, convincing others to join them the way she was tonight. She might be leading people to their deaths. But she can't shake the deep conviction this is their responsibility. To let it pass would be a monumental failure.

"While we rest, we build more weapons. Absolutely tag in alternate teams. I'd like to finish checking out routes and ambush points ahead of time, map where they might go. Give us an idea of what phase two looks like, even now."

This is the most she's said out loud in maybe a week, and she stops, looking up at Beau, slightly abashed. Her sister had come over here drunk and ostensibly happy. "We don't have to plan all this. This minute, though. We're at a party."