“Oh, sweetheart,” Mrs. Sorrin’s voice carried the gentle authority only mothers possess. “Look at you, all worried over a tiny bruise.” She extended her arm, the small purple mark stark against her skin under the hospital lights.

The nurse who’d entered behind Daniel - a different one, with auburn hair tucked neatly beneath her cap - checked the monitors with trained efficiency. “We just need to take Mrs. Sorrin for a routine surety scan,” she explained, her voice set at the precise temperature of professional warmth. “Standard procedure.”

She glanced between them as she adjusted Mrs. Sorrin’s IV line, a brief smile tugging at her lips.

As the nurse helped Mrs. Sorrin into a wheelchair, she reached up to pat Daniel’s cheek. “You two wait here,” she instructed, her eyes twinkling. “And Daniel, that worried look ages you - something your friend here doesn’t need to see.”

The door whispered shut behind them, leaving Daniel and Juniper in a silence broken only by the distant murmur of hospital activity. Juniper’s fingers found her sleeve again, working the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. Through the frosted glass panels, passing staff cast moving shadows like ghosts in the corridor beyond.