Penny clicked Upload, Confirm, Publish, and that was that.
Starfall Valkyrie — Issue #1, now officially lived online under: Elisabet Eiríksdóttir.
Her heart pattered like a panicked rabbit as the view counter slowly ticked upward.
Not viral, not even close.
But real.
Strangers liked something she made.
She allowed herself exactly three minutes of silent squealing before forcing herself to breathe like a normal human.
---
Penny arrived hoping to lurk at Stuart's shop.
Instead, Stuart held up a printout the instant she entered.
"Penny! Look at this new indie comic someone posted. 'Starfall Valkyrie.' Really impressive stuff."
Penny pretended to peer casually.
"Oh neat. New series?"
Before Stuart could answer, Sheldon drifted into her peripheral vision—perfectly timed.
He leaned in, scanning the pages with laser focus.
Penny's inhale caught.
He'd seen her sketches before.
He'd commented on her shading technique back then.
He had Sheldon Memory™.
If he recognized it…
He didn't say anything yet.
But his eyes sharpened, like he was overlaying two images in his mind.
And they matched.
Penny's stomach swooped.
---
"This is… competent," Sheldon said slowly.
Too slowly.
He wasn't analyzing for errors.
He was verifying.
"The mythological influences are balanced. Compositionally consistent. And the emotional through-line is"—his gaze flickered to Penny, brief but unmistakable—"surprisingly authentic."
Penny nearly forgot how to breathe.
Authentic.
He knew.
Of course he knew. He was Sheldon.
Stuart, oblivious, nodded. "Right? The artist is talented."
"Indeed," Sheldon murmured. "The line work is… familiar."
Penny stiffened.
He added, smoothly, "Familiar in quality, I mean. As in: reminiscent of seasoned graphic illustrators."
Lie.
A smart, targeted lie.
He wasn't covering up the comic.
He was covering for her.
Penny's pulse tangled with a warm, rising gratitude.
Stuart flipped the page. "You think the creator will keep it up?"
Sheldon's mouth pressed thin—almost wistful.
"I hope so," he said. "It would be… disappointing… if she stopped."
She.
Not "they."
A slip?
A choice?
Penny's heart beat too loudly to tell.
---
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Identity recognition flagged.]
[Subject S. Cooper: plausible deniability applied.]
[Bond-affinity: +4 (unsaid).]
---
Penny walked out of the shop buzzing, her comic bag swinging at her side.
He knew it was hers.
He knew, and instead of teasing her or asking a hundred questions or demanding to beta-read, he'd simply… protected the secret.
Held it quietly.
Gently.
Like it mattered to him that she feel safe sharing it.
And somehow, that meant more than any compliment.