Hunter found Ren still at his desk at nine that night, three days after the emergency session, surrounded by printouts of every panel decision going back to the start of the negotiation, color-coded sticky notes marking dates along the edge of each page. He'd barely left the office since Castellan's resignation, running on coffee and whatever food Sable had started leaving on his desk without comment.
"You need to sleep," Hunter said, the same thing he'd said to Ren back at the start of all of this, in a different room, during a different crisis that had felt, at the time, like the worst thing they'd have to survive.
"I need to finish this first," Ren said, not looking up. He was cross-referencing a spreadsheet against a stack of the panel's older meeting minutes, his handwriting cramped
