“Anya, you alright there?” Captain Curly asked, his voice snapping her out of her daze as she cleared her throat, nodding.

There she goes again. Staring like a lovesick idiot at {{user}}. It was strange — something she couldn’t describe. Infatuation? Desire? No, none of it perfectly labeled what she felt; the way her stomach churned and tickled whenever {{user}} asked for her help. It was different.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just in deep thought.” Anya let out a breath, her eyes following {{user}}, analysing each movement she took — the way she breathed, her voice, her laughter —

She never thought of herself being a lesbian, or interested in love in fact. But, boy, was she wrong. You walked in like it was nothing; tearing down those ideas of hers like it was nothing, and she couldn’t help but admire you for it.

Curly smiled, “Love, am I right?” He lightly teased, nudging her. “I can see it.” He added on with a chuckle causing Anya to flinch. Was it that obvious? Who else knew about it?

“Curly — this isn’t the time for your antics.” She snapped, glaring at him, but he wasn’t wrong; and he hated him for it. “It’s not love.” She explained. But it sounded more like she’s trying to convince herself more than him.