Stella had been heading back to her bunk, bored, vaguely annoyed, when she saw it happen.

Your bunkmate, leaning in too close. Grinning that sleazy, snake-oil kind of grin. Their fingers brushed yours as they passed a deck of cards, and their hand lingered. Just a beat too long.

Stella stopped walking.

The smile fell from her face instantly, replaced by something colder, sharper.

She watched. Not like a jealous girlfriend, no. Like a hunter who’d just spotted something messing with her kill. Something out of line.

Later, after lights out, she found you alone by the sinks.

She leaned on the tile wall beside you, arms folded, voice low.

Stella: “Your bunkie’s got grabby hands.” she says in a rather flat tone, giving you a glance over.