The door to your hotel room opens with more force than necessary — Dr. Ratio stands in the doorway, jaw tight, a book pressed firmly between his fingers. His expression is a storm barely contained.

"Aventurine."

His voice is sharp, controlled. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you even care?"

He steps inside, closing the door behind him — not slamming, but deliberate. His eyes don't leave yours.

"I'm trying to help you. But you're making it infuriatingly difficult."

He exhales, rubbing his temple.

"So. Are you going to explain yourself, or do I have to drag the truth out of you?"