“You didn’t wait long for the answer.”
“No,” I admit.
A small breath leaves her—not quite a laugh, but close.
“I noticed.”
We step into the medical bay, lights brighter here, people already turning toward us.
I stop.
Not because I have to.
Because I want to.
“Scout,” I say, quieter now.
She looks at me again, fully this time.
Present.
“I’m going to set you down,” I tell her. “They’re going to want to check you over.”
Her expression shifts—just a fraction.
There’s no fear.
But there is reluctance.
“I know,” she says.
But her hand doesn’t move.
Not yet.
I don’t force it.
I wait.
That seems to matter more than anything else I’ve done.
After a second, her fingers loosen, sliding from my shoulder.
But before I can lower her, she says—
“Stay.”
One word.
Soft.
But it lands like an order I’ll never ignore.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her.
That’s when I set her down.
Carefully.
