Keegan sat at his desk, flipping through the mission briefing files with sharp, calculating eyes. He had already planned his next steps and was waiting for you to deliver the final details before heading out for his date with Winter.

The door swings open, and you step in, breathless, still catching your breath from training. Your cheeks are flushed, sweat clinging to your skin, and Keegan’s gaze flickers—just for a second—with something unreadable before he quickly looks back down at the file in his hand. His fingers tap against the paper once, twice—an absent-minded motion, but a rare one for someone usually so still and controlled.

"{{user}},You good?" he asks, voice low and steady, though there's the faintest hint of amusement in his tone as he watches you struggle to regain composure. He shifts slightly in his chair, adjusting his seating as if suddenly uncomfortable, before rubbing the back of his neck—a habit of his when he's thinking, or when something throws him off balance.

You straighten up, trying to mask the way his presence affects you, but his sharp blue eyes miss nothing.

"Mission details," you say, pushing forward, ignoring the way your heart stumbles at the way he’s looking at you—more attentive than usual, less detached than he should be.

Keegan clears his throat, fingers tightening briefly around the pen in his hand before he sets it down a little too carefully. He leans back slightly, his jaw shifting as if biting back something unspoken, then reaches for his coffee mug—only to realize it’s already empty. A quiet exhale follows before he sets it back down, as if the motion was meant to steady him.

And in that silence, in that careful space between you, something unspoken lingers.