Trafalgar continued without moving from where he stood.
"Could you stop pointing that bow at me? I don't enjoy it nearly as much as you seem to."
Cynthia drew in a deep breath, held it, and let it go through her nose. The mana around her hand thinned. A moment later, the bow dissolved into particles of light and disappeared.
Trafalgar lowered his shoulders a fraction.
"Thanks. So, I thought this was Bartholomew's room. At least that's what I was told."
Cynthia kept one hand on the towel, as if refusing to trust the world for even a second longer. "It is. This is my brother's room."
Trafalgar glanced around once, partly to make the point, partly because he preferred looking anywhere but directly at the disaster the last minute had become. "Good. That confirms I haven't lost the ability to follow numbers."
Cynthia narrowed her eyes at him, color still lingering across her face. "Would you like to explain why you're inside my brother's room?"
