The storm came first.

Sheets of rain slashed through the trees, the camp swallowing itself in gray. The air smelled like wet pine and cigarette smoke — the kind that clung to Blair Hollis like perfume.

She sat on the porch, one knee propped, smoke curling between her fingers. Her eyeliner had bled down her cheek in thin, careless streaks. She didn’t bother wiping it. She never did.

Across the clearing, {{user}} moved through the downpour like he didn’t even notice it. Head down, hands in his pockets, the picture of apathy. Everyone else was hiding inside, but he — of course — had to exist like the weather wasn’t trying to erase the world.

When he reached her cabin, she didn’t say a word.

He didn’t either.

He stopped at the bottom of her steps, water pooling around his shoes. Their eyes met — just for a second. Long enough to set something in her chest alight. Not a flame, but a pulse. Something quiet. Something dangerous.

Blair tilted her head slightly, exhale ghosting into the cold air. Her lips parted like she might speak, but nothing came out for a moment.

"Are you going to come in?" She asked. All usual bite out of her tone.