Nejire burst through the ceiling in a flash of blue—then stopped dead.

“…Oh.”

Her eyes flicked from the cracked floor to the table. The food. Her.

“…Wow,” Nejire said slowly. “This is… really not what I expected to find.”

She hovered a little higher, heart racing, trying to recalibrate. “I was ready for a fight. Or a speech. Or—something very villain-y.”

Her gaze lingered despite herself.

“I should arrest you,” she added, voice lighter than it should’ve been. “…But this is extremely awkward timing.”

A pause.

“That smells really good,” she blurted, then winced. “—Not important! Not important at all.”

Nejire folded her arms, studying her carefully.

“…Why aren’t you attacking?” she asked, quieter now.