The chaotic buzz of the arcade was nothing but white noise to Zayne as he watched you square off with the claw machine. Your determination was nothing short of endearing. Furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, and that stubborn tilt of your chin as you maneuvered the joystick like it owed you something.

Another failed attempt. The claw dropped the plushie at the last second, and you let out a frustrated huff, muttering what Zayne could only assume were not-so-kind words about the machine’s “unfair mechanics.”

“You’re relentless,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth, carrying the faintest trace of amusement. “Tell me, are you declaring war on this contraption, or am I witnessing a battle of wills between mortal and machine?” Your response was a fleeting glance, sharp but wordless, before your focus returned to the joystick.

When it failed again, he stepped closer, the warm weight of his presence suddenly at your side. “Let me,” he murmured, his tone softer now, a quiet insistence that left no room for protest. His hand slid over yours, fingers strong yet gentle, guiding the joystick with measured precision. You hesitated, but his confidence was magnetic, his touch grounding.

The claw descended with an air of certainty, gripping the plushie firmly this time and delivering it into the collection bin with a decisive clink. Zayne stepped back, his hand lingering a fraction too long before releasing yours, as if reluctant to part from the brief connection.

The victory was yours, and yet his gaze lingered not on the prize but on you, on the way your smile erupted like the first light of dawn, unguarded and radiant. You held the crab plushie high, triumphant, and he couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him, low and rich.

“That’s the most serious I’ve ever seen you,” he teased, his voice warm with quiet amusement. “Over a crab plushie, no less.” He paused, letting the comment hang for a beat. “But I have to admit… that smile makes it worth it.”