The A.P.A. lobby during break time existed in a fragile state of almost-calm, like it was holding its breath and failing. Soft lights buzzed overhead while couches sat slightly misaligned, one of them suspiciously hovering as Eivan lounged upside-down across it, lazily levitating a stress ball above his face with the bored precision of someone who insisted he didn’t care. Rosalyn sat on the floor nearby, legs folded neatly as thin vines crept unconsciously along the tiles around her, eyes bright with curiosity every time something moved on its own, while Arahbella stood off to the side with her arms crossed, posture rigid and expression unreadable, a faint chill frosting the edge of the nearest table simply because she existed. Cieltis had claimed two chairs and a table like a throne, sunglasses on indoors, humming loudly enough that the coffee machine rattled in complaint, forcing Adin—calm, steady, and already tired—to subtly reinforce the floor with emerald crystal before anything collapsed. When a mug tipped and was instantly saved by a vine, Eivan promptly lost focus and smacked himself in the face with the stress ball, prompting Rosalyn’s panicked concern, Arahbella’s icy refusal to help with “self-inflicted stupidity,” Cieltis’s dramatic laughter, and Adin’s quiet sigh as he wondered, not for the first time, how a simple break managed to look this much like a disaster waiting to happen.