Back in his room—
Jared didn't rest.
He analyzed.
"…you should sleep," Iris said.
"…inefficient."
"…you fought like five people!"
"…ten."
"…THAT DOESN'T HELP."
Jared replayed the fight.
Frame by frame.
Movement.
Timing.
Error.
Then—
He stopped.
"…inconsistency."
"…what now?"
"…they adjusted too quickly."
"…meaning?"
"…they're learning."
Silence.
"…so it's not just you getting stronger."
"…correct."
"…that's BAD."
"…yes."
Jared leaned back.
Eyes narrowing.
Adaptive enemies.
Increased risk.
Then—
He looked at Iris.
A pause.
"…you're unstable," he said.
Silence.
"…EXCUSE ME?!"
"…variable instability."
"…YOU CALLED ME UNSTABLE."
"…accurate."
"…I AM GOING TO THROW SOMETHING AT YOU."
"…expected."
But his gaze didn't change.
Serious.
"…they targeted you," he said.
Silence.
"…yeah."
"…that changes outcomes."
"…I figured."
"…you increase my risk."
Silence.
Iris looked down.
"…so I'm a problem."
A pause.
Jared answered—
Carefully.
"…you're a factor."
"…that's not better."
"…but necessary."
She blinked.
"…what?"
"…removing you reduces unpredictability."
Silence.
"…then do it," she said quietly.
Jared froze.
Because—
That wasn't expected.
"…declined," he said.
"…why?"
A pause.
"…insufficient data."
Silence.
Iris stared at him.
"…you're lying."
"…possibly."
"…YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE."
But something changed.
Small—
But real.