[ The curtain rustles softly, sliding back into place, and Mr. Whitecape disappears from view. Given the go-ahead to stay, Zephirin moves closer again, returning Francel's smile as he seats himself on the edge of the bed.

To think that Francel barely looked up at all, at first when they met. ]

It isn't how I expected us to see each other again, but it's the least I could do. [ His eyes flick to the bruise-to-be on Francel's cheek. ] Guerrique will be relieved to hear that you're alright.

[ So will he — even if it was only a tennis ball to the head, a concussion was (and apparently remains) a real possibility. ]