Brigitte's mouth twists into a small, sad smile: a far cry from her usual sunny expression. (But it's actually something of a relief, that she doesn't feel the need right now to plaster on a bright, beaming look when she isn't feeling it. She's been doing enough of that, most days.)

"I agree," she says, and it's one of the few times you'll have caught her admitting it. It's a valuable power, it means she can help her loved ones in such a unique way -- but it's heavy, it presses down on her shoulders and chest sometimes, and it's a risk. Somehow finding that balance of carrying what you can, without your metaphorical back breaking.

She's looking down at her boots now, trying to get herself back on track. Remember why she came here in the first place. "We should probably do some training, huh?" Brig suggests, and her voice comes out lighter than she'd expected. It's a clumsy segue, but she can't quite figure out how to do it otherwise.