River doesn't glance at Galadan. Doesn't answer aloud.

But her chin lifts in what might be a nod, and she's sprinting flat-out, ignoring the darkness and the shouts, running for the stage with never a glance down the aisle. Not yet.

If anyone could see through Galadan's darkness, they'd see her grab the edge of the stage and yank herself up in a leap and tumbling roll that's half dance and half judo and entirely efficient; it carries her to her feet in one motion, and she doesn't stop.