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KITTY TRIES TO SUMMON BARTIMAEUS AFTER PTOLEMY'S GATE
“You don’t need me here."
He looks exactly as she remembers him, or rather exactly as she remembers him. Same stupid coat, same long fingers and pale skin with the ink under the fingernails, the same bags under his eyes. (Except his eyes, instead of brown, they’re black, the same black of Ptolemy’s eyes, black you could fall into and never hit the bottom.)
She chokes on her words, so carefully prepared, that rebuilding is a lot fucking harder than it should be, that a sudden influx of Polish immigrants has everyone on edge, petitions being signed for the previous government back, the good old days. a tenth of the city, including rebecca piper, has come down with a strain of the flu that’s left doctors baffled. kitty hasn’t slept more than three hours a night for the last week and there’s a pain in her chest that she’s been staunchly ignoring for too long now. and, most of all, people look up to her, people depend on her, and she’s helpless to help them.
"i just missed you is all,” she says, shocked by how small her voice is. (shocked and angry. she’s better than this.)
bartimaeus gives her a small smile, and suddenly half of nathaniel’s side is drenched in blood, his leg is twisted at the wrong angle, his hair is matted with dirt and sweat. (he’s still in better condition than when they found him.) “i’m tired, kitty. let me go.”
she does. she hears — or at least pretends she hears — before he leaves: “but i’ve missed you, too.”