District One was always loud during the day. Voices, orders, engines, evacuees, alarms.

But at night? Everything fell still.

Only the soft hum of generators broke the silence as you sat on the edge of the checkpoint desk, swinging your legs idly. Night shift wasn’t supposed to be exciting… and yet, every night around the same time, you heard familiar footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Heavy. Steady. Distinctive.

“Y/N,” Sergeant Doyle greeted as he came into view, hands tucked into his vest. “Didn’t fall asleep on duty, did you?”

You grinned. “No. But I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Miss me?”

“Maybe,” you teased.

He shook his head, pretending to be unimpressed—but the faint smirk betrayed him.

You hopped off the desk, falling into step beside him as he started down the dim hallway. The overhead lights flickered softly, giving everything a calm, almost peaceful glow.

These walks weren’t official. Not required. Not even really allowed.

But every night Doyle “happened” to pass your corridor during his patrol, and every night you joined him. No one questioned it—everyone assumed he was just training a civilian aide.

If only they knew he slowed his pace so you could keep up.

“How’s your shift?” he asked.

“Quiet,” you replied. “Almost too quiet.”

“That’s good,” he said. “Means we’re doing our job.”

You looked at him sideways. “You ever get tired of walking around all night?”

“No,” he said simply. “Especially not when I’ve got company.”