[ Her thoughts stutter, as if she'd missed a step on a familiar set of stairs. A beat passes before she grasps what's thrown her off, and then it hits her – oh. Jay is just sixteen, too, isn't he? He carries himself so assuredly and with the calm, cool control she associates with adults who don't know what it's like to have to be scared of anything that it had entirely slipped her mind. That Jay was the same age that Ryoko and Mielle were.

The same age they had been. Past tense.

Her fingers curl into her arms and her nails dig in. Just a little. ]

It should be. They shouldn't have been here in the first place, but–

[ A rare emotion surfaces in her voice. Frustration. ]

There's adults here. People who know better. What sort of rotten, good-for-nothing grown ups are we if we can't even protect kids?