"Arthur," Alicia said again, her voice dropping an octave. Frost began to creep along the floorboards, freezing the spilled coffee into a dark, jagged stain. "I asked you a question. Who. Is. She?"
Arthur raised his hands, his mind racing at a speed that would have put a supercomputer to shame. The room was a wreck, the bed was destroyed, and Sol was standing there looking like the poster girl for "The Morning After." There was no way to explain this away as a study session.
"Alicia, wait. Dampen your mana," Arthur said, stepping between them, though he was careful not to touch Alicia while she was practically a walking blizzard. "It's not what you think. She's not... a human."
Alicia's eyes narrowed, shifting back to Sol. "Not human? She looks plenty human to me. And she's wearing your shirt."
Sol, who had been watching the scene with a mix of amusement and calculation, caught Arthur's eye. He shot her a desperate, silent command: De-escalate. Now.
