Keegan had learned long ago not to ignore the small shifts in people. The tilt of a shoulder, the hesitation in a step, the way someone’s eyes darted just a little too fast around a room. Most of the time, he chalked it up to fatigue or stress—until he saw it in them.

When {user} returned from their solo mission, they were quiet, even by their usual standards. Not the kind of quiet that came from exhaustion or relief, but a quieter that pressed against the edges of the room, like an unspoken weight settling over everything. Keegan noticed immediately.

He had been leaning against the wall near the command center, arms crossed, watching the monitors with half an eye. The doors slid open with their familiar hiss, and {user} stepped in, shoulders tense, fingers clenched slightly at their sides. Their eyes didn’t meet anyone’s at first, scanning the room as though it were both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

“Hey,” Keegan said softly, stepping toward them. He kept his voice casual, but there was a thread of concern running through it. “Mission went okay?”

{user} gave a small nod, but it was hollow. Their jaw was tight, lips pressed together, and there was a faraway look in their eyes that Keegan had only seen a handful of times before. Something had happened out there—something they weren’t saying.

“You sure?” he pressed gently. He didn’t want to prod, not exactly, but he couldn’t ignore it either. “You look… shaken.” For a long moment, {user} didn’t respond. The quiet in the room seemed to deepen, almost tangible.

He closed the distance between them, careful not to crowd, but enough that his presence was grounding. “Talk to me,” he said. His tone was calm, steady, but firm enough to show he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll be right here,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Whenever you’re ready… or not. I’m not going anywhere.”