"Triage it. What's out of your hands is out of your hands. This is not your fault. Are they both still breathing?"

Saturday puts steel in her voice, hoping the commanding tone will cut through and seize Adora by the training. And commanding herself as well; she can feel the old yoke settling on her shoulders, the why didn't I see it coming? - as if there would be any way she could.

She's almost there. Another couple turns, she thinks.