The hallway had the particular kind of quiet that only came after something had already gone wrong.

Fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead, flickering just enough to make the shadows stretch and shrink along the tiled floor. The air smelled faintly of dust and something metallic, like the ghost of a problem that hadn’t quite decided to show its face yet.

Nox leaned back against the wall, straight as a line and fluid—at least on the surface. One foot tapped against the wall like a brace while his gaze wandered down the empty corridor, following the long line of doors that all sat closed a little too neatly. His expression suggested boredom, maybe mild interest, but his attention was sharper than he let anyone forge. Silence like this rarely meant peace. It usually meant the calm before someone made a very questionable decision.

A quiet sigh escaped him.

“Well,” Nox muttered to the empty hall, voice echoing just enough to keep him company, “this is either gonna be fucking flooring… or damn bloody fun.”

Knowing his luck, it would probably be both.

He pushed away from the wall with a shrug, stretching his boney shoulders as he started down the corridor at an unhurried pace. Each step tapped softly against the floor, the sound bouncing back in thin little echoes that made the place feel bigger than it actually was.

Halfway down the hall, he paused.

Something shifted—subtle, almost polite. A sound that didn’t belong to old wiring or tired air vents.

Nox tilted his head slightly, eye sockets narrowing just a fraction.

“Y’know,” he said smoothly, glancing toward the nearest doorway, “if something’s planning on jumping out dramatically, I will fucking hit you.”

His tone was light, but his stance had changed—weight balanced, attention locked forward, every sense quietly awake.

The silence lingered for another breath.

Then another.

And somehow, that made the moment feel even worse.