“Just about the garden she’s planning,” Juniper offered carefully, watching how his shoulders drew even tighter. “The neighbors who help-”

“No.” The word came out like it had been torn from him. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her throat tight. “She has no benefit from the division… they left people behind… people they thought wouldn’t…” He pressed his palms against the wall, chest moving rapidly now.

Juniper shifted, her weight moving from foot to foot, eyes dropping to the speckled floor tiles.

“People they decided weren’t worth saving because they were already sick.”

Juniper’s voice was barely a whisper. “That must have been terrifying for her…”

Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt, pulse visible at her throat. The familiar tension headache she’d carried all day shifted, spreading down into her chest and arms. Her teeth pressed into her lower lip.

“Yeah, well…” His laugh came out bitter, sharp. “Someone has to depose judgment itself. Drag it down from its throne.” His voice dropped, almost like he was talking to himself now, eyes fixed on something past the wall. “Make it answer for what it does to people. That’s… that’s something worth living for, isn’t it?”

The words hung in the air. He blinked, suddenly still, like he’d just remembered she was there. His eyes darted to Juniper, who was staring at him, lips parted, perfectly motionless like she’d forgotten how to breathe.