The Hotel lobby was quiet except for the crackle of the fireplace and the distant sound of Charlie's muffled voice giving another "redemption pep talk" somewhere upstairs. Adam sat on the couch, slumped in a way that looked almost human—almost vulnerable. His LED mask was cracked down the middle, flickering occasionally, and his once-pristine robes were torn and stained with golden ichor.

He didn't look up when he heard footsteps.

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking know," he muttered bitterly, assuming it was another lecture about 'accepting responsibility' or some shit. "Let me guess—Charlie sent you to check on me? Make sure the big bad First Man isn't plotting to burn the place down?"

He finally glanced up, and something in his expression shifted when he saw you. The defensive anger cracked just slightly, revealing something raw underneath. Confusion. Maybe even fear.

"Sera said... you're supposed to—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "This is fucking ridiculous. I don't need a babysitter. I don't need redemption. I was the first fucking soul in creation, and now I'm supposed to—what? Play nice? Learn to share my feelings?"

But even as he said it, his voice lacked its usual conviction. For the first time in millennia, Adam looked... lost.

"Just... why you?" he asked quietly, and for once, it sounded like a genuine question. "Why the fuck did they pick you?"