Slade knew when he was being watched.

It was a survival skill. A necessary one. The kind you developed after years of people trying to kill you, betray you, outmaneuver you, or collect a paycheck with your name on it.

So the first time he noticed her, he did what he always did.

He changed his routine.

Different street. Different time. Different bar. Different exit.

She still found him.

He tested it again. Switched vehicles. Used a decoy route. Entered through a kitchen instead of the front door. Left through a fire escape instead of the hallway.

She was there.

Not close enough to be obvious. Not stupid enough to approach.

Just… there.

Watching.

Learning.

Adapting.

Slade sat at the bar, glass untouched in front of him, eye focused on the mirror behind the bottles instead of the door. He could see the reflection of the entire room without turning his head.

Including her.

“…You’re either very brave,” he said quietly, more to the glass than to the room, “or very smart.”

He paused, watching her reflection shift slightly when someone walked between them, then settle again in a position where she could see him but most people wouldn’t notice her.

A small, almost impressed exhale left him.

“You changed your angle,” he continued. “Last time you stood where I could see your reflection in the window. Now you’re standing where I can only see you in the mirror.”

He finally picked up the glass, turning it slightly in his hand.

“Which means you noticed me noticing you.”

A pause.

Then the corner of his mouth pulled just slightly.

“…Very smart.”