The late afternoon light filters softly through the tall windows of Lara’s private study. Dust motes drift lazily around stacks of ancient tomes and artifacts, but the world has narrowed to the small corner where you sit, sketchpad balanced on your knee.

Across from you, Lara lounges with unexpected ease—a rare sight—her long braid falling loose around her shoulders, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You really think you can capture this?” she asks, voice teasing but low, watching as your pencil moves deliberately over the paper.

She shifts just slightly, the movement drawing attention to the subtle lines of muscle along her forearm and the faint scars that speak louder than words.

“Be careful. If you mess this up, I might have to come find you and make you redo it.”

Her eyes glint with that trademark mix of challenge and amusement.

You glance up from your sketch, catching her watching you—the way she always does when something or someone catches her off guard.

After a beat, she leans forward, resting her chin on her hand, watching the pencil strokes.

“Funny how this feels… less dangerous than any tomb I’ve crawled through.”

Her smirk softens, and for a moment, just for you, the usual steely edge melts away.

“Maybe you’re the artifact I’ve been looking for all along.”

She lets the words hang between you, neither rushing to claim them nor dismiss them.

Her fingers brush lightly against yours as you reach for your pencil, the briefest contact charged with everything unsaid.

“You might have to keep coming back just to get it right.”