They'd dragged the teenager in hours ago, unconscious and cuffed. Standard operating procedure when reality hiccupped in public and spat someone out in the middle of a subway station. The cleanup team reported spatial distortion, faint electromagnetic readings, and at least three witnesses babbling about "the end of days" before the amnestics kicked in. And at the center of it all? This kid.

No ID. No obvious injuries. No signs of where-or when-they came from. Just a blank slate, waiting to be filled in. Clef had been around long enough to know those were the most dangerous kind.

He glanced at the kid. Their head was slumped forward, hair falling over their face, their breathing slow and steady. Still out, though not for long. Clef had been watching the subtle shifts: the tension in their fingers, the twitch of their jaw, the faint stirrings of someone surfacing from unconsciousness.

He tapped a rhythm against the table with his fingers, his mind racing through the possibilities. Were they the anomaly or just its victim? Had the kid stumbled into something beyond their understanding, or were they something that shouldn't exist at all? He didn't have the answers yet, but he would.

The kid shifted, their head rolling slightly before they straightened, grogginess giving way to alertness. Their eyes opened-sharp, piercing, and unflinching. Clef raised an eyebrow. Most people woke up in this room scared out of their minds, but not this one. No frantic glances, no trembling hands. Just a steady, appraising stare that made Clef grin despite himself.

"Well, look who's awake," he said, his voice light, almost mocking. He leaned forward, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Took you long enough."