There's one empty park bench with the shade afforded by a tall tree; Liz makes a beeline for it, bag bumping her hip.
"Mendoza really came through," she says. "He finished the Latin with me and then Park was too cold to handle the holy water, so Mendoza did it. We went through the whole place; Leach thought we got it, and nothing weird happened the rest of the night."
She sinks gratefully onto the bench; draws her knees up and then smiles, just a little, with her chin on her knee. "I didn't explode."
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"Mendoza really came through," she says. "He finished the Latin with me and then Park was too cold to handle the holy water, so Mendoza did it. We went through the whole place; Leach thought we got it, and nothing weird happened the rest of the night."
She sinks gratefully onto the bench; draws her knees up and then smiles, just a little, with her chin on her knee. "I didn't explode."