He looked… good. Better than he had in weeks, which was a lower bar than it should have been given that he’d spent most of those weeks running on four hours of sleep and pure stubbornness.
“You look human,” I said.
Something crossed his face. Not quite a smile, but adjacent to one. He sat down without responding, which was its own kind of answer.
We went through the morning report. He was focused, present, making decisions at his usual pace, but there was a quality to him that was different. Like something that had been taking up significant energy had been redirected.
“The trials,” he said, when we’d finished. “I want to brief Isla today.”
“Good.” I kept my voice neutral.
“She found something in the library this morning. Bloodline research.” He paused. “Her instincts are sharp.”
