Tiamat nodded, but her hand—crackling with barely contained chaotic energy—settled on his shoulder with surprising gentleness. "They're not going anywhere, and I can wait one more day. Besides, you've strengthened yourself too fast during the war without getting time to adjust. The potion made it worse."
She gestured toward the basalt windows, where the sounds of ongoing conflict could be heard echoing through the city's streets. "Atlantis needs you more. These remains of Asgard are making too much noise for my liking, and it doesn't seem like our soldiers will get rid of them soon."
Her gaze dropped to his tattered kimono, torn and stained with the ichor of gods and the blood of his own wounds. "And you need a fresh set of clothes and a good bath, too."
She pointed downward, toward the obsidian floor where Adam had been standing. Adam followed her gesture and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
