Nyssa exhaled slowly, her chest tightening. She’d seen this look before — the hollowed edge between fight and collapse. It wasn’t a suspect she was seeing. It was someone’s soul caught in crossfire. “Let me talk to her,” Nyssa said quietly to the duty officer. Her voice, low and warm, left no room for argument. “Hey…” she said softly. “It’s just me. Nyssa Al Ghul. NCIS. I’m not here to question you.”Nyssa’s voice dropped into something even quieter, something that wrapped around Daisy like a blanket rather than a command. “You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to explain anything right now. You’ve done enough, Marine.” Nyssa took a single step closer. Slow. Careful. Her smile — the kind that could melt Kevlar — softened the sharpness of the moment. “How about this,” she murmured, “you come with me. We’ll get dinner somewhere quiet. No lights, no noise, just… something warm that doesn’t come in an MRE packet.” “And after that…” Nyssa hesitated, just for a heartbeat — the smallest blush ghosting her cheeks. “After that, maybe you come stay at my place for a while. Just till you feel safe. I’ve got a spare room, and, uh… a bad habit of cooking too much pasta for one person.” Nyssa’s answer came like a vow. “Then trust that I’ll never make you prove it.”