Nel looked up at Even. She knew that look. It was a look that said there was something she didn't know, yet, somthing important. She frowned, looking back at Ienzo, and took a moment to tidy a stray lock of his hair back into place. It was a motherly gesture, not merely an affectionate one. She liked Ienzo; he'd been a scared boy in over his head, pressganged into a vicious clan when he'd first arrived, for all he'd tried not to look it. She'd seen what he'd been made to do in Midgar, and her own actions there were something she still hadn't come to terms with. She suspected, for a few reasons, that Ienzo faced the same problem.

He was going to have a hard and treacherous road ahead of him now.

"He can have some water," she advised, looking at Ulquiorra, "just sips for now." Then she stood to make her way towards the infirmary doors.

She spared a glance for Szayel on the way. "Behave yourself," she warned.