Tracey focused on Skylar, who was pressing buttons on the remote; she walked over to Skylar, but Bree stopped her—she pulled out a gun: It was white and gold, the tip sparking with bright electricity. It hummed and sparked.
“I was talking to you about the state of this city. It is rude to ignore someone speaking with you, especially if that someone is royalty,” Bree said.
“My apologies, Ms. Prexy,” Tracey said. But although Tracey wasn’t looking at Skylar or the remote anymore, it remained on her mind—It was evident in her blank expression. “Not many kids want to be Agents anymore, but the ones who do give it their all. A top student of mine graduated today.”
“Was it the student you put on level 15?” Bree asked, smiling before frowning once again.