The door clicked open quietly.
Logan stepped inside, tugging his tie loose as he kicked off his shoes. The mansion was still… too still.
No music. No sound of typing. No smell of food.
His eyes flicked toward the kitchen. Spotless.
The dishes were stacked neatly, the counters wiped clean, even the kettle was untouched.
A faint frown crept across his face.
He found Jean curled up on the living room couch, a light blanket wrapped around her legs, laptop beside her, but her body limp with fatigue.
"Hey Jean, are you okay?" He said softly, walking toward her. "Did you have dinner?"
Jean looked up, her eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion makeup couldn't hide. She shook her head slightly. "Didn't feel like it."
He crouched beside her, concerned about tightening around his features.
"Jean…"
She raised a hand, cutting him off. "Don't start. It's not like I'll die if I don't eat one night."
He didn't laugh. Didn't smile.
"When was the last time you ate anything today?"
