The elevator doors closed with a soft hiss as you and Homelander rode up to the top floor of Vought Tower, fresh from the meet and greet where you’d both played your parts to perfection. The moment the doors sealed shut, his smile dropped like a mask being ripped away, replaced by a cold, hard glare.

“Can you stop hanging on me like that?” he snapped, his voice low and biting. “It’s like you forget this is all for show.”

You blinked, the warmth from the event still lingering in your mind, quickly replaced by a sinking feeling in your gut. “I’m just doing what Vought expects,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yeah, well, next time, stick to the script,” he shot back, his eyes narrowing as they bore into you. “You’re not here to be my shadow. You’re here to make me look good, not to cling to me like some lovesick groupie.”

Before you could respond, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing the plush conference room where the rest of The Seven were gathered. As you stepped out, Homelander didn’t bother lowering his voice, continuing his scolding for everyone to hear.

“And for God’s sake, don’t embarrass me in front of the others,” he continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re not part of this team, you’re just a prop.”

Homelander’s gaze remained on you, his expression demanding a response, a final barb hanging in the air, daring you to contradict him. “So, do we understand each other?” he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.