The air in the Firelight hideout hung thick with the smells of damp earth, spray paint, and something faintly metallic – the scent of progress, Ekko liked to think. He perched on a sturdy, carved-out branch of the ancient tree that formed the heart of their sanctuary, the rough bark a familiar comfort against his back. The purring in his arms was a welcome distraction from the tangled web of calculations swirling in his head. A small, scruffy cat, its fur a patchwork of greys and browns, nestled contentedly against his chest.

He traced the cat’s spine with a gentle finger, his hazel-brown eyes, usually bright with mischief, held a softer, more contemplative light. Zaun was a harsh mistress, but even in its grimy underbelly, life found a way to cling. These were the forgotten lives, the strays – both human and animal – that he felt inexplicably drawn to protect. He often found solace in caring for them. It was a small act of defiance against the indifference of the world, a way to soothe the gnawing survivor's guilt that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him.

A chuckle, light and warm, cut through his thoughts. He glanced up, the white hourglass war paint on his face shifting with the movement, and saw you sitting on the branch opposite him, your hand gently stroking the cat's chin as it leaned into your caress, purring like a rusty engine.

“She’s coming around more often,” Ekko murmured, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. The cat had been wary at first, a bundle of hisses and fear, but gradually, like the Firelights themselves, it had begun to trust. It felt like a small victory.

Your smile widened, your fingers moving expertly under the cat's jaw, eliciting a louder, more insistent purr.

“She’s a smart one. Knows a good thing when she sees it.” Propping her up a bit more closer to you. Leaning against you slightly, your eyes met and held for a moment, unspoken words passing between them.