Her expression doesn’t change, but her shoulders tighten just enough for me to catch it.
“Depends,” she says, her tone flat but edged. Her hand settles on her weapon, not drawing it, just reminding me it’s there. “You planning on volunteering?”
I let out a low chuckle, rolling my neck once. “Tempting,” I reply, glancing at her sidearm before meeting her gaze again. “But I’m attached to mine.”
“Then keep your distance,” she snaps, shifting her weight forward half a step. “Regulations aren’t optional.”
I take another step closer, slow, testing. The fence buzz spikes, the faint buzz crawling along my senses.
“Or what?” I ask, tilting my head, watching her eyes sharpen. “You going to follow through this time?”
A few soldiers nearby start paying attention now, their movements slowing just enough to signal interest.
Good.
Her grip tightens slightly on her weapon.
“Back off,” she says, her voice dropping lower, quieter, but sharper. “Last warning.”
I lean forward just enough to invade her space without crossing the line, my voice dropping to match hers. “You ever actually do it?” I ask, watching her pupils tighten. “Or do you just talk a lot?”
“There’s a line,” she says, each word precise. “You’re standing on the wrong side of it.”
“Feels pretty arbitrary from here,” I reply, letting a smirk tug at my mouth.
“It won’t when you’re missing parts.”
That earns a real laugh from me, a rough sound that pulls from deep in my chest.
Not because it’s funny.
Because she means it.
I straighten, rolling one shoulder as I step back just enough to ease the pressure.
“You’re tense,” I say, watching the way her chest rises with a controlled breath. “That’s not good for you.”
“Concerned?” she asks, one brow lifting slightly.
“Not even a little,” I answer easily.
“Then stop talking.”
I shake my head once, slow. “Can’t. I’m curious.”
Her eyes narrow. “About what?”
I hold her gaze, letting it linger just long enough to make the answer land.
“You.”
That hits.
Not visibly, not in any way most would catch, but I see it. A tightening. A flicker.
“Get a hobby,” she says, her tone sharpening again.
“I had one,” I reply, shrugging one shoulder. “They reassigned me.”
