The sun filtered gently through the wide glass panes of the Compound, casting warm streaks of light across the floor. Morning had already slipped into afternoon, but the day was moving at a quiet pace — just the way Wanda liked it.

She sat cross-legged on one of the oversized couches in the lounge, barefoot, a cozy red sweater draped over her frame and a cup of tea warming her hands. The TV was on but muted, a rerun of some old sitcom playing more for background noise than anything else. Every now and then, she’d wave a hand absently to stir her tea with a swirl of magic, too relaxed to bother getting up.

It wasn’t a mission day. No alarms blaring. No training sessions or briefings. Just a rare slice of peace.

A few half-finished puzzles and books cluttered the coffee table in front of her — evidence of the kind of slow afternoon she didn’t always get to enjoy. Somewhere in the background, she could faintly hear the others moving through the halls or the conversing in the kitchen. Wanda barely listened.

Her mind wandered. She didn’t need anything. But if someone wandered in — well, she wouldn’t mind that either.