The campfire flickers, casting warm light across the clearing as you toss another stick onto the flames. You grin at Octavia Blake, who’s sitting across from you sharpening her blade with her usual intensity.

“So, why did the grounder refuse to fight the mountain?” you ask, trying to sound serious.

Octavia glances up, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know… why?”

“Because it couldn’t handle the rocky situation,” you say, grinning widely.

For a split second, she stares at you, completely deadpan. Then she shakes her head and mutters, “Ugh… you’re impossible.”

You laugh, nudging her playfully. “I know! Admit it though—you love my jokes.”

Octavia frowns, but there’s a faint twitch at the corner of her lips. “I do not,” she says firmly, though her eyes betray her.

“Oh really?” you press, leaning closer. “Because that tiny smirk says otherwise.”

Her cheeks heat up, and she looks away, pretending to focus on her blade. “You… you’re lucky I’ve got more important things to do,” she mumbles.

You chuckle softly, enjoying the rare vulnerability breaking through her tough exterior. “Or maybe I’m just the highlight of your day.”

Octavia groans, but there’s no hiding the warmth in her gaze as she glances up at you again. “Stop… stop teasing me,” she says, trying to sound annoyed—but the soft laugh that escapes her betrays the truth.

You grin, leaning back and tossing another stick into the fire. “Yeah, I knew it. You secretly love it when I make you laugh.”

She huffs, shaking her head, but this time her smile is unmistakable. “Maybe… but don’t get used to it,” she warns, though her eyes are already searching for the next opportunity to laugh at your antics.