Raven lay back this time — not because she wanted to, but because the cuts across her ribs made sitting up a losing argument. The med bay lights felt too bright, too clean after stone floors and watching eyes. Her jaw was tight, hands curled at her sides like she was bracing for something else to be taken. “They figured it out,” she said flatly, staring at the ceiling instead of at you. “Too late to matter, apparently.” Her voice hit sharp, then went quieter. “If you’re here to patch me up… just tell me what you’re doing first. I’m done being surprised.”