[ Now that she knows she can't rely on her spells, now that she knows what happens. Five gives her a look, because he really shouldn't have to say more than that, but she's acting like she needs him to spell it out. He'd rather not. What he saw only lives on in his memories, unless someone here manages to wrestle those out of him.

His reluctance to make it real results in his response coming out harsher than necessary. Like he's taking this for an argument or a teachable moment, instead of horror over what almost occurred. ]

You died, alright? They threw a knife when you tried casting a spell, and it hit you square in the chest. [ Which he'll point at, for emphasis, in a jabbing motion he instantly regrets and his hand drops away. ] I was there, so I... made it so it didn't matter. And it doesn't. I told you, you're fine.