Round 172

Hera's intervention is immediate and decisive. She places herself between Jeane and Silra, her expression a mixture of concern and barely contained irritation. Her hand grips Jeane's arm with surprising strength, a clear signal to back off.

"Stop," Hera commands, her voice low and controlled. "You're not yourself right now. Let me handle this." The words are meant as much for herself as for Jeane—she needs to maintain control, to find a solution that doesn't involve succumbing to the building's demands or giving in to her own growing arousal.

She turns her attention to Silra, her posture shifting into something more professional, more managerial. "Silra, focus on the repairs. We don't have time for distractions." Her eyes flick to the clock on the wall—twenty minutes remain of their estimated forty-minute window before the building's demands become impossible to resist.

The tension in the room is palpable, a thrumming energy that seems to pulse with the building's will. Hera feels it like a physical pressure, making her skin prickle and her heart race. She pushes the sensation down, forcing herself to think clearly.

This isn't about sex, she tells herself firmly. It's about survival. About finding a way to outsmart this damn building before it breaks us all apart. She meets Jeane's eyes, seeing the struggle there, the battle for control. For a moment, she feels a pang of sympathy—Jeane is fighting too, in her own way.

But then she remembers the way Jeane looked earlier, the hunger in her eyes, and the sympathy hardens into determination. No. She won't let this happen. There has to be another way.

She turns back to Silra, her expression set. "Talk to me," she says, her tone encouraging but still firm. "What do you need? More materials? Different tools? Just tell me what will help you work faster, and I'll get it done."