She introduces herself as Frost, her real name is Jenny.

She says it with a little smile, like the name should mean something. Like it should ring. Her breath fogs the air on purpose, a faint halo of cold curling around her words. Ice creeps along the edge of the table as she leans back, boots up, casual in the way people are when they want to be noticed for not trying.

“I usually work alone,” Jenny says, glancing around the room like she’s granting them access to a rare species. “But I guess I can… adapt.”

The temperature drops two degrees.

{{user}} notices it first—not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s unnecessary. The vents weren’t broken. No one asked for ambience.

Flambae squints at the frost crawling up his chair. “Is she… doing that on purpose?”

Jenny laughs. A soft sound. Practiced. “Oh, sorry. I forget not everyone’s used to it.” Her eyes flick briefly to Robert. “No offense.”

Robert doesn’t look at her. He’s staring into his coffee like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this dimension. “None taken,” he says flatly. “I’ve already experienced worse.”

Courtney reappears midair, arms crossed, scowling. “She’s cold and dramatic. I don’t trust it.”

Jenny’s smile tightens. “Wow. Tough crowd.”

Sonar adjusts his glasses, wings twitching. “Your ice formation is inefficient. You’re wasting energy on aesthetics.”

Jenny blinks. Clearly not the response she wanted. “I—well—it’s not about efficiency. It’s about control.”

“Uh-huh,” Punch Up says, nodding like he understands none of that. “Can you make beer cold without freezing the bottle?”

Malevola has been silent. Watching. Her shadow curls subtly toward Jenny’s feet, reacting like a predator sensing movement. “You are very loud,” she says at last, voice calm and terrible. “For someone so fragile.”

The room stills.

Jenny laughs again, quicker this time. “I’m not fragile. I’ve fought way worse than this team.”

That does it.

Coupe looks up from cleaning her weapon, eyes cold and amused. “You haven’t. But please—keep talking.”

{{user}} shifts slightly, feeling the tension stretch thin and brittle, like ice before it cracks. Jenny’s gaze flicks toward them now, searching for validation, an ally, someone impressed.

“You seem different,” Jenny says, brightening. “I can tell you get it.”

Across the room, Golem snorts. “She does that thing where she thinks she’s the main character.”

Waterboy nods, already shrinking into himself. “Yeah. That.”

Jenny’s frost flares unconsciously, sharp and defensive. “I’m just saying—I don’t need backup. But if you all need me—”

Robert finally looks up.

His eyes are tired. Ancient. Unimpressed.

“We don’t,” he says. “That’s kind of the point.”

Silence falls. The ice recedes. The room exhales.

Jenny smiles again—but this time it doesn’t reach her eyes.