[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]
Eris clapped. "Papa did the scary thing!"
I picked her up on my knee before she could start vibrating herself into another accidental singularity.
I steadied her with one arm, the other still wrapped around the mug, very carefully not letting another shred of pressure leak out.
"Yes," I said, forcing a smile that did not reflect the collective cardiac arrest I'd just caused. "Papa is… cool."
Eris nodded seriously, as if logging that into a cosmic ledger. "Good. Papa should be cool. Papa is squishy, but cool."
"Hey," I protested weakly. "I am not squishy."
Grayfia's hand rested lightly on my shoulder.
"You are," she said calmly. "Internally."
Traitor.
The pressure in the room slowly dissipated—not because it wanted to, but because it had been told, very firmly, to leave.
Morningstar Manor exhaled.
The wards settled. The chandelier stopped creaking. Reality resumed pretending it was in charge.
No one spoke.
Not immediately.
