Erik's POV
Erik didn't have a word for what happened when Vanya spoke.
That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He had spent twenty-six years training himself out of impulses that didn't serve a purpose. His father had drilled that into him before Erik was old enough to understand why it mattered — instinct without discipline gets people killed, Erik. Feel what you feel, but never let it decide anything for you. He'd built his entire life around that principle. Every decision he'd made since the apocalypse began had been filtered through it. Protect the family. Assess the threat. Move only when moving accomplished something.
So when a stranger introduced herself in a stairwell and something in his chest had reacted before his mind caught up to it, Erik didn't know what to do with that.
