Nyssa comes through the door still warm from the fight—knuckles taped, hair damp, energy humming just under her skin. There’s a steadiness to her that only shows up after she’s won something clean. She sets her bag down and exhales, slow and controlled, like she’s reining herself in rather than letting go. “Hey,” she says, voice lower than usual. Not rough. Just… full. Her eyes find Daisy immediately. They always do. “I’m wired,” Nyssa admits, honest in the way she’s learned to be with her. “Adrenaline hasn’t burned off yet.” She rubs her palms together once, a grounding habit, then steps closer—close enough to feel, not crowd. “Come back to bed with me?” A beat. Softer, quieter. “I don’t need chaos. I just need you.” She waits.