"Punished?" she echoes, incredulous. Slowly, Cecelia folds her arms. "We're talking about punishable offenses now, are we? Why? You've been here near as long as I have, why would I have to be punishing you?"

What did he do? What didn't he do? Gods, if another rug was going to be yanked out from under her, it may as well come from someone she'd grown to trust, huh? It fits a bitter narrative.