I study his face.
The familiar lines.
The scar.
The way his eyes hold mine now without slipping away, without hiding behind charm or humor.
“You scared me,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies softly. “I figured.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t get it. I thought?—”
My voice catches.
I swallow.
“I thought I was going to have to tell Jesse about you like a story.”
His expression tightens.
“That’s… not a story I want told.”
“Good,” I say. “Because I’m not telling it.”
He exhales slowly.
“Wasn’t planning on making you.”
I take a step closer.
“You don’t get to do that again,” I say, my voice low but steady.
“Fight a giant monster?”
“Yes.”
“Bit of a niche hobby.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I hold his gaze.
“You don’t get to decide you’re expendable.”
Something flickers across his face.
“I wasn’t?—”
“You were,” I cut in. “You were standing there like it didn’t matter what happened to you as long as everyone else got out.”
He opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Because he knows I’m right.
