He was struggling. Vigorously, she could tell. Irene might as well have been watching a man claw for purchase against a wood log adrift at sea. Having been in a similar situation, Irene felt she could only be a witness; separate. This was a battle she wasn’t privy to, nor would she fully understand. Her lips pursed and she nodded, though she knew he likely hadn’t seen.

Getting up, she padded to the kitchen, her wand waving to release a glass from the shelves. It filled with water and floated into her hand so she only had to turn back around. “Here,” She murmured, kneeling next to him.

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