Roxy's POV
Two days passed, and the headquarters felt different in a way so stupid. People spoke a little quieter, footsteps carried a little more weight, and every glance that landed on me lingered a second longer than it should have. News traveled fast in places like this, especially when it involved broken furniture and raised voices behind closed doors.
I found Gena near the central bay, standing by one of the inactive consoles, pretending to be interested in whatever dead data flickered across the screen. She looked fine at first glance, composed even, but I knew better. There was a stiffness in her shoulders that hadn't been there before, and her fingers tapped against the surface in uneven rhythms.
I walked up beside her without announcing myself. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't hostile. It was… careful.
"You look like you're trying to decode something that isn't there," I said casually, leaning against the console.
