What happens in the Departed Realm, Stays in the Departed Realm

Dead Serious: A Morning of Muffins and Consequences

Madeline did not descend the stairs.

She glided down them.

Her hair was swept up into a long braid and she had a facial expression so neutral it bordered on seriousness. She was the embodiment of "everything is fine" with a faint edge of "but I will remember."

The entire room went still when she entered the common space.

Lloyd nearly choked on his second muffin. Cole muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. Harumi sipped her tea without flinching.

Madeline folded her hands in front of her and smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

"Good morning," she said, voice smooth as glass. "I trust you all slept well?"

Nobody answered.

James whispered to Morro, "Do you think she practiced that entrance?"

"She's always been particular about certain things, but not a perfectionist. I still remember Harumi and Madeline's morning debate of messy bun vs neat ponytail. And the preservation of dignity and food." Morro replied.

Madeline's gaze swept the room with polite interest and landed—pointedly—on Lloyd and Cole.

"I hope," she continued, "the morning's events have provided ample time for reflection."

Cole looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. Lloyd tried to smile. "We, uh... weren't aware of the, um, regulations."

Madeline tilted her head slightly. "I understand. In the future, I recommend knocking."

Harumi, from her chair: "In their defense, they did attempt to die from shame afterward."

Madeline gave a faint hum and turned her attention to Kiara and James. "I believe the breakfast trays are due for collection soon. Would you mind seeing to that?"

"Absolutely," Kiara said, grabbing James by the sleeve and hauling him out of range.

Morro stayed seated.

Madeline's eyes flicked to him.

He didn't flinch—just stared back with an unreadable expression.

"...I wasn't even there," he muttered.

Madeline raised a single brow.

Morro exhaled sharply, stood up, and muttered, "Fine. I'll go help with the trays."

He left without further resistance.

That left only Madeline... and the two very awake, very guilty members of the table.

She didn't speak right away.

Just looked at them—not angry, not dramatic—simply disappointed, which was somehow worse.

When she finally did speak, her voice was calm but cutting.

"I am aware it was an accident. But accidents still have consequences."

Lloyd stood slowly. "We're genuinely sorry."

"I know," Madeline said softly. "But we've scarcely spoken before. That does not entitle you to such informality."

She turned away and made her way to the sideboard, where she poured herself a cup of tea with perfect grace.

Cole watched her for a beat. "...So does this mean we're forgiven?"

Madeline stirred her tea, not looking up. "Not quite."

She took a sip. "But I'm choosing to conduct myself as though you are."