Meredith appeared at Richard's elbow once the stretchers had vanished into the infirmary tents. Her robe was soaked; curls clung to her temples, but her expression had returned to sister‑mode.
"You always find the grandest messes," she said, low enough that only he could hear.
"Family trait," he replied, smirking despite the ache tugging his muscles. "Or haven't you seen Dad reverse‑park?"
She snorted, then sobered. "I've lodged the casualty report. Vance will want statements tomorrow. I can maybe delay it, until like, tomorrow evening."
"Can't a man talk in his own time?" he asked, and sighed, prompting Meredith to raise a brow.
"With two bunches of traumatised students and one SS‑Rank sniffing round? Dream on. Why does he want to talk with you specifically anyway?"
Richard glanced towards his sister and shook his head. "Ah, dense sister of mine. He knows my rank."
Meredith's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean, he knows your rank? He read the class docket—says you're E‑Class."
