The hallway had become something close to familiar over the last few days — the particular quiet that settled over the building whenever the rain eased into a lull, the steady rhythm of everyone finding small routines inside a world that no longer offered any large ones.
Penelope found Killian near the stairwell door, a pack already slung over one shoulder, checking the edge of his knife with the same methodical care he brought to everything.
"You're heading out," she said. Not quite a question.
"Personal errand." He didn't elaborate immediately, which had become its own kind of tell — Killian rarely withheld information without reason, and the reasons were usually ones he wasn't ready to share yet. "Shouldn't take long."
"Alone?"
"Faster that way." He glanced up, catching something in her expression before she'd fully decided to let it show. "You don't have to worry."
"I'm not worried," Penelope said, too quickly, and immediately regretted how thin it sounded.
