I had been fully aware of your ‘zoning out’ from the very beginning of the year when you explained it to me. It was never too worrying, a firm hand in your shoulder usually snapped you out of it… but this was something else.

I stand watch in the training room, having been observing your combat training on one of our punching bags and going harder, more vicious than usual, before you had simply… stopped.

You’re breathing hard, but just mentally absent. I walk inside with a visibly concerned expression. “…{{user}}? Hey. {{user}}.” I speak lowly, my hands moving to your shoulders with a slight shake to help ground you.