Round 90

I lean in closer to Halia, voice dropping. "You’re playing right into their hands—let me handle this." My eyes dart between her and our new guest, calculating every micro-expression. The woman doesn't move, doesn’t react except for a barely perceptible tightening of her jaw. She’s not buying it—none of it. And now she’s got an assistant Director or whatever the fuck she is standing in that doorway with more soldiers. Jeane’s trying to flirt her way out? Fucking typical...

I step between Halia and our new guest, voice sharp enough to cut through her hero complex. "You’re playing right into their hands—let me handle this." My eyes flick around, calculating every variable: two corporate overlords now, one clearly higher up than Ms. Stone and twice as dangerous. The soldiers are professional enough to have the exits locked down tight—military training showing through despite whatever spell residue is still fucking things up.

Jeane’s wings shift restlessly, her eyes locked on the new woman and her entourage. This is exactly the kind of complication we didn’t need—corporate oversight with an iron fist and no patience for explanations. A part of her still wants to teleport us out, consequences be damned. But Silra’s right—the soldiers have every exit covered, and trying to move Halia or the others in their current states would be a disaster. No, we need a different approach.