Peggy dabbed the cloth of her sleeve against her forehead. Mopping up blood before it began to clot -- a brief moment of vanity made her fear the matted mess it would make of her hair. Perhaps appearance meant little in the broadest scope of the mission, but it cost her nothing to express a sliver of concern now.

"My aim," she answered -- prim once again, with the spell of their momentary candour broken, "is to document the city in as explicit detail as I can. Its buildings; its state; its previous inhabitants. I'll not compromise that aim, Logan."

But she issued no challenge. Instead, she left him to sort through the words and find the olive branch hiding in the spaces between. She claimed she would document the city and not the man. Adhering to the very letter of her occupation would save him more grief than any other subterfuge.