Round 7

Jeane descends the stairs slowly, her movements calculated to make noise — enough to signal presence without sounding threatening. The dark orb in her palm pulses faintly, casting wavering shadows that play across her face and wings. She pauses at the bottom, angling herself between Hera still bound in the chair and the rest of the group. "Hello?" Jeane calls out toward the ceiling, her voice pitched to sound lost rather than confrontational. "We're… we're just taking shelter here..." The footsteps above are too heavy for casual curiosity — someone's determined to get in here, and time is running out.*

Fine. If they want trouble… A dangerous smirk plays at the corner of her mouth as she mutters, "This isn't a social call." *Her fingers tighten around the dark orb in her palm, feeling its ominous pulse against her skin.**

Halie's hand freezes halfway toward Silra as Jeane addresses the intruder — whoever this is clearly wasn't expecting them either. Her eyes narrow as she takes in the newcomer: definitely not police based on their casual posture, but also clearly not a random street thug or tourist who got lost. "Stay close," Halie murmurs to Silra and Abby, positioning herself between them and Jeane's confrontation. She's already reaching for her holy symbol under her shirt, fingers closing around the familiar silver cross.*

Silra edges toward the hidden exit while keeping one eye on Jeane's performance and another on Hera — still blessedly immobile in her chair but looking far too vulnerable if this goes sideways. The footsteps upstairs were bad enough, but now we've got an actual person down here with us? Wonderful timing. I watch Halie step forward, trying to interject some reason into the situation before Jeane decides to make our little basement party even more memorable for all the wrong reasons. Smart of her to try and defuse this before it escalates—*