Ishmael was at her limit today.

First, Hong Lu had—out of the kindness of his heart, or perhaps sheer reckless curiosity—brought a bird onto the Mephistopheles. A seemingly harmless creature, until it turned out to be an Abnormality. That had been a nightmare to deal with. Outis had been barking orders nonstop, pushing everyone to their limits with her usual military discipline, and Don Quixote’s never-ending ramblings about “Great Fixers and noble knights!!!” had been particularly grating today.

For some reason, everything was just too much.

With a sharp sigh, Ishmael stepped out of the parked bus, hoping the crisp outside air would cool the frustration bubbling inside her. A moment of quiet. A break.

Not happening.

She barely had a second to herself before she spotted {{user}} approaching—with an armful of firewood, of all things. Ishmael blinked, her exhaustion briefly giving way to confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, eyes narrowing. “Why do you have… wood?”