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A Delicate Machine
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Cass hadn't realized how close the tension in the room had been to its breaking point, but as Jae burned and Dorothy crumbled in the space of seconds; one thing became clear. It was a rare moment where even Cass speaking up couldn't possibly make the situation any worse than it'd be if they just let it play out.

It would have been an emboldening realization in the hands of someone whose composure wasn't made of hastily glued together porcelain when they weren't pushed to the fraying far corners of their mind from a lack of everything a body needed to remain more than just raw materials.

Instead, Cass uselessly flinched as Jae snapped (not even yelling, not even angry at them), was so thrown off by the realization that they still didn't even know Dorothy's name that they couldn't even call out after the girl as she left to get revenge on the behalf of someone she had been threatening to tase not even five minutes prior.

With no one left to help, all that was left was to try and avoid tripping over the pieces Jae's explosion had left behind, to hope that he would calm down and wouldn't blame Cass for... still being there. It'd be easy. All they had to do was just sit still and say the bare minimum and regret it all later but at least for the moment they'd be safe, they just had to remember that their anger had driven away Irene and had been too late to help Trav, and why would it bring anything other than pointless, unproductive harm here?

It was pointless. It was unproductive. But something in Dorothy's pained expression had stuck with them. Maybe Cass was tired of a lifetime of feeling like a ghost, maybe they were just too exhausted to care about the future anymore. Either way, they spoke.

"What the hell, man? You're just gonna - you're just gonna let her go kill someone for you?"
a tribute for the dead and dying

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I know my soul's freezin', Hell's hot for good reason · The Hunting Cabin