He'd let them have their categories for a while.
Veronica shifted on the seat.
A small motion. Her shoulder rolling slightly, her hand moving to find a surface and finding the seat leather. Her eyelids moved. The marks on her collarbone pulsed once, warm.
He watched her without turning his head.
She wasn't fully back yet. An hour, maybe. The body needed time after what it had been through. He wasn't concerned.
Elena was deeper under.
The first time had a way of doing that — not just the physical exhaustion but the internal reorganization of it, the brain processing something that had changed several of its foundational assumptions and needing the downtime to rebuild the architecture.
She'd be different when she woke up.
