It had been a long day in the Danger Room.

Long didn’t even begin to cover it.

The moment Remy found out Rogue was with Magneto, something in him snapped, and the training session that followed paid the price. Simulations were destroyed faster than necessary. Targets were overcharged. Walls still smoldered hours later.

Stressed wasn’t the word.

Remy was furious.

Fury sat heavy in his chest, coiled tight with hurt and betrayal, and it had nowhere to go. So now he was here, sprawled across the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, a deck of cards snapping sharply through his fingers as he shuffled again and again. Too fast. Too rough.

He’d called for you because you were one of the few people who didn’t flinch when he got like this. Someone who could sit in the storm without trying to fix it.

The door opened.

Remy’s ears twitched instantly, attention snapping toward the sound before his eyes even lifted. When he looked up and saw you, something in his shoulders eased just a fraction.

“There you are,” he said.

The words came out colder than he meant them to, clipped and tight, but the relief underneath was unmistakable. His hands slowed, the cards pausing mid-shuffle as his gaze stayed locked on you, jaw clenched like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.