Ophelia was the first to move.
She walked to the supply closet behind the reception desk, opened it, and came back out carrying a broom, a bucket, and a look of quiet resignation that suggested this wasn't the first time she'd cleaned up after something that shouldn't have been possible.
She looked at the broom. Then at the crater.
Then at the broom again.
"I'm going to need more brooms."
Odelia was already behind the desk, pulling open drawers with the efficiency of someone who had inventoried disaster before. She set a stack of heavy-duty gloves on the counter, followed by two rolls of thick cloth, a box of something I didn't recognize, and what appeared to be a first aid kit that had seen better decades.
"The windows will need boarding before nightfall," she said without looking up. "If it rains, the ground floor is done."
