It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you. And it wouldn’t be the last — not if he had anything to say about it.

Neil leaned against the railing of the rooftop terrace, a glass in his hand, untouched. Below, the city pulsed in golds and shadows, alive with the kind of energy he never fully trusted. But he wasn’t looking at the skyline. He was watching you.

You didn’t know, not really. Maybe you'd caught his eyes on you once or twice — a passing glance, a half-smile from across the room. But Neil was careful. He had to be. The work demanded it. The world demanded it. Still, there was something about you that made his focus waver, just slightly. Not enough to be dangerous. Just enough to feel human.

He watched the way you moved — effortless, unaware of the weight you carried, the way you brightened a room you didn’t even realize was dim. He admired the way your eyes lit up when you spoke, and how you could cut through tension with just a look. He admired too much. He knew that.

It was stupid.

And yet… he couldn’t help it.

So he kept his distance. Let the glass sweat in his hand, let the night stretch long. He told himself it was just curiosity. Just professional interest. Just a passing thing.

But even Neil wasn’t that good of a liar.