Galathea Brooks didn't wait for clearance.
The infirmary doors slid open and she stepped through them like she had somewhere precise to be, even if that place was only distance. Her movements were steady, controlled, too clean for someone who had collapsed less than ten minutes ago. No hesitation. No backward glance.
Behind her, footsteps followed-- measured, deliberate.
Not close enough to touch but not far enough to ignore.
"You don't have to work tonight," Cael said.
His voice didn't rise. It carried just enough to reach her without pressing.
She didn't slow down. "Fine."
The word landed flat, unshaped by gratitude or argument. She tapped her badge against the elevator panel before he could reach it, already choosing direction, already choosing distance.
The doors opened.
She stepped in first.
He followed after a breath's delay.
Inside, silence settled quickly-- thick, deliberate.
