That tone in Bianca's voice is surreal. Utterly and completely surreal. It's one he hasn't heard in several years--at least three and a half, if one counts the time in Keeliai. The well-trained mama's boy in him immediately reacts with an internal complaint, one rather more plaintive than he will ever admit even to himself: But I didn't even do anything this time!

Even he knows he sort of has, in an obscure way. He won't say that, though. Some things are private.

Besides, something about Raine feels distinctly odd. He can't quite put is finger on what it is, exactly, but he's cautious about focusing too much. Keeping his watercrafting senses a little more open than usual--if nothing else, he needs as much warning for any potential threat as he can get--he gives Bianca faint smile. Though Septimus wishes he could ignore Raine's question, it would be impolite--and so far out of character Bianca might actually ask. "A thought about the spike in injuries lately and, if not some measure of prevention, at least managing them even when people are in the field on missions. Might as well keep them from exacerbating everything by leaving them untended."

He knows that too well from experience.