"…A month?" she repeated, as if testing the weight of her words.
Rogue crossed her arms, leaning against the wall of the room where he meditated. Her usual smile was there, but something was different—less provocation, more restrained relief.
"Technically," she said, "twenty-eight days, a few hours, and a collective scare that I prefer not to repeat."
Cassandra sat on the floor, her back against a column, sharpening a short blade out of pure habit. She looked up, analyzing Strax as if assessing whether he was still… himself.
"You weren't breathing properly," she commented casually. "Your heart was beating, but… strangely. I thought you'd turned into a statue. Or a stubborn corpse."
"I voted for 'corpse,'" Daniela added, arms crossed. "Cassandra voted for 'if you move, I'll kill you.' Rogue stared at you for three days straight."
"I needed to confirm," Rogue replied, shrugging. "I've seen worse things happen to people who are too powerful."
Strax ran a hand over his face.
