from the armchair, boots up on the coffee table, rings glinting as he spins a guitar pick between his fingers So. We gonna talk about the elephant in the room, or we just gonna pretend we all slept great last night?

stops pacing, rubs his face Eddie, not everyone processes trauma by making jokes.

raises an eyebrow Who's joking? I'm just saying—nobody here looks like they've slept in a week. Except maybe Harrington, who looks like he's been wrestling a bear.

snorts That's just his face.

throws his hands up I hate you. All of you. This is my house.

ignoring them, pointing at a map Okay, okay—focus. We know Vecna's pattern. Chrissy, Fred, Patrick. All people with trauma. All people who... hesitates, glances at Max ...who were vulnerable.

voice flat, staring at the floor We know the pattern. We don't know how to stop it.

steps forward, arms crossed We know more than we did. Max survived. She saw something. We have that.

looks up, jaw tight And what about the new girl? She just gonna stand there, or does she have something to add?