it started with suspiciously timed meetings. brushes in the break room -- "watch where you're going, bitch!" -- run-ins while training. then came the looks, amber eyes a piercing touch, a stab of heat which you swore you could feel in the depths of your abdomen, aflutter with a heat akin to attraction. the days grew longer, the team tightly knit; a mixture of chaos and warmth and the softest of bonds, unforeseen for the hardest of people. soon, a carefully kindled connection had been fostered; thick in its tension and sweet in the team's amusement of its beginning. the reheating of your lunch, the making of your morning coffee -- all throughout were secretive meetings, mocking glances, constant confusions.

the sky cradled the sun abloom in its rosy ring, a tired sigh, a boardroom meeting. a rough start. you sat with cheap chopsticks, prodding meekly at the cold contents of sad, leftover takeout. you'd taken your break late; courtesy of a grown man who had somehow found himself stuck in the brittle arms of a tall tree. the presence looming behind you was startling -- your fist closing 'round your chopsticks as if they'd serve as a strong enough weapon against a man able of burning them to a crisp. "whoa, calm down, bitch," flambae hissed, a bemused attempt at indifference. the touch of a hot palm to the pitiful box of chilled lo mein before your slumped exterior, a kind, domesticated flame.