The man's burned fingers woke before the rest of him.
His right index tapped Kestra's floor twice. The first contact stung. The lower beat came through the second burn and pulled his throat tight around a sound he had already made somewhere else.
He caught the hand against his chest before it reached for a third tap.
One finger at a time, he opened the fist. The smallest obeyed. His ring finger shook but stayed clear of the stone. The middle burn pulled hardest, seeking a contact that was no longer there. He tucked that finger into the torn hem of his undershirt and kept it wrapped.
Jade sat beside him with a skeleton skull against her hip. Her coat was torn where the jaw had pulled through it. One living hand held a short finger bone, while the white hand rested open on her knee.
"You answered a sound from somewhere beyond this room. Did you choose it?"
The man moved his tongue along the back of his teeth. No blood. No wire. The old instinct checked anyway.
