Greta nods, oddly reassured by the report. Last time this happened, she was even farther removed from the city proper than she is now — and, perhaps, more solidly protected. All she could do was let her imagination run riot with what might be happening further afield. Now that it isn't so far afield as it could be, there's some comfort in hearing that most of the mayhem Sweeney's come across is... well, forgive her for thinking so, but a bit ordinary. The criminally inclined, it seems, have less vivid imaginations than she does.

Which won't save any shopkeeper's windows, of course. You don't need to be creative to do inexcusable things to people. The city will be a mess in the morning. But at least it feels a bit safer to believe that it'll still be standing.

This also means that having Sweeney here feels a bit less like an indulgence she shouldn't encourage, as if he ought to be out in the thick of things in case he needs to defuse a bloody bomb or something. "Are you hungry?" she asks. "I could bring something out, if you like. Or you could come sit for a moment."