Lyra reached Jack's position first, her hands rising as if to touch his blackened arm before thinking better of it.
Her blue eyes looked at the injury with growing distress, noting how the limb hung limp and unresponsive at his side, how his posture had shifted to compensate for the dead weight pulling at his shoulder.
"Jack, what happened? Your arm..."
"It's fine," Jack interrupted, his tone carrying finality that discouraged further inquiry. "Temporary injury. I have solutions available."
His eyes tracked her face with calculating focus, measuring how much explanation would be necessary versus how much could be deflected through simple dismissal.
"Can you keep quiet about what happened here?" The question was direct, lacking diplomatic softening or elaborate justification. "Everything you saw needs to stay between us."
Lyra's expression shifted, confusion giving way to exasperation.
