The room felt unfamiliar to Trafalgar, as if its shape had shifted while he was not paying attention. He stood there without moving, posture slightly off, shoulders tense in a way that suggested imbalance rather than anger. There was nothing explosive in him, nothing sharp enough to break the silence. What lingered instead was a hollow stillness, like sound swallowed by thick fog. His eyes drifted without purpose, settling on objects and slipping away again, unable to anchor themselves for long.
Rhosyn watched him quietly before speaking.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Her voice carried neither urgency nor softness meant to soothe. It was a simple question, offered plainly, as though she were checking whether the ground beneath him still held.
