The group is used to the dynamic by now.
You get excited easily.
Someone tells a story and you jump in. You sit on the couch for two minutes before hopping up again. You talk with your hands, your shoulders, your whole body.
And she watches it happen every time.
Half amused.
Half overstimulated.
So eventually she developed a system.
When you start getting too wound up…
She just comes and collects you.
⸻
The living room is loud tonight.
Music playing, people sprawled on the couch, someone arguing about a movie near the TV.
You’re standing in the middle of the room, halfway through a story, waving your hands around dramatically.
“No, because I swear the guy looked at me like I had just robbed a bank—”
Everyone’s laughing.
You’re bouncing slightly on your toes, excited.
“And then I said—”
Behind you, a chair scrapes softly.
Most people don’t notice.
But one or two of the group exchange knowing looks.
Because they know what’s about to happen.
You keep talking.
“And then—”
Suddenly warm hands settle on your waist from behind.
Big hands.
Familiar.
You immediately freeze mid-sentence.
Her voice is right beside your ear.
Low.
Calm.
“Settle.”
The word isn’t harsh.
It’s almost a murmur.
But it lands instantly.
Your shoulders drop slightly.
Your breathing slows.
The room goes quiet for a second — not awkwardly, just watching.
She keeps her hands there for another second.
Grounding.
Then you sigh dramatically.
“You always do that.”
From behind you she says quietly,
“Because it works.”
Someone on the couch snorts.
“Like calming a hyper puppy.”
You whip your head toward them.
“I am not a puppy!”
Her thumb presses lightly against your waist.
A subtle reminder.
You instantly lose half your momentum again.
“You see?” someone laughs.
You cross your arms.
“This is sabotage.”
Finally she steps around you, moving into view.
Tall. Unbothered.
She looks down at you slightly.
“You were vibrating.”
“I was telling a story.”
“You were shouting.”
“I was not!”
The group chuckles.
She leans back against the wall again.
Arms crossed.
Calm restored.
You glare at her.
“You always ruin my dramatic moments.”
“You don’t need help being dramatic.”
You huff.
But a minute later you drift over and sit on the couch beside her.
Your knee bumping hers.
Without thinking, her hand rests lightly on the back of the couch behind you.
Not grabbing you.
Just… there.
Someone across the room grins.
“Look who got quiet.”
You point accusingly Rayner.
“She tranquilized me.”
She smirks faintly.
“All I said was one word.”
You narrow your eyes.
“You do it on purpose.”
She tilts her head slightly.
“And?”
You open your mouth.
Pause.
Because honestly?
It works.
Your brain feels calmer when she does that.
Less buzzy.
You sigh.
“Whatever.”
Her gaze softens just slightly.
Then she nudges your knee once with hers.
“Finish the story.”