He looked at Senna. "You good?"
She nodded. Stepped toward the worst chunk of collapsed brick like it owed her rent.
Lucen pointed to the right. "Callen, clear that lane. Mira—"
"I know," she said, already pulling spellwrap and a salvage torch from her pouch.
Lucen moved left. Hands in his coat. Kicked a half-bent railing once to see how loose it was. It clanged, shifted. He reached down and grabbed it with both hands. Pulled.
The metal shrieked, bent out, snapped off near the base.
He dragged it off the sidewalk and tossed it toward a ditch.
Behind him, the child from the food cart flinched at the sound, but didn't cry.
Lucen kept clearing.
One piece at a time.
Callen pushed a bumper out of the lane with a grunt. "This feels like grunt work."
Lucen said, "It is."
"Not our job."
'For now it is I guess.'
Lucen didn't argue.
Just muttered, "Still ours."
