Angel arrived in her usual quiet way. No flair. No shouting. Just calm steps crunching over ash and scattered bullet shells outside the wrecked ship. Her eyes took in the bodies—mercs half-buried in dirt, bots shattered like toys, and the smell of gunpowder still clinging to the air.
She exhaled slowly. "Shit."
Then she entered.
Inside, she ran into Lyra first, who looked like she belonged in the hallway more than the ship itself—scarred arms folded, a calm, casual look on her face. She nodded toward the corridor without a word and turned around, leading Angel deeper in.
But Angel wasn't alone.
Lilia walked behind her, wide-eyed, gripping her bag like it was a shield. When they reached the central room, Xavier looked up, clearly caught off guard.
"…Lilia?"
She waved awkwardly, gave a tiny smile. "Hey."
Xavier stepped closer. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I asked Angel if I could come… and she said yes," Lilia said, almost sheepish.
