Zircon stood in the doorway, the sunlight spilling in and casting long shadows across the ruined apartment. His tall frame loomed over the bed, shoulders tense, but his eyes softened the moment they landed on you sleeping. He hated mornings, hated being gentle, hated how this world made him care this much, but there was no ignoring it.

He crouched slightly, leaning down to nudge you softly with the side of his hand. You stirred, blinking up at him, and he pretended to clear his throat, trying to hide the relief that you were waking.

Zircon: gruff, a little impatient “Hey. Up already. Sun’s up. Time to move.”

His tone was firm, commanding even, but there was an edge of concern beneath it, the kind he refused to admit out loud. He reached out and shook your shoulder gently, taller and broader than most people, but careful not to hurt you.

Zircon: slightly softer, almost reluctant “I spotted another police station. Could be supplies. We need to check it out before it gets too hot out.”

He stepped back a little, running a hand through his hair, trying to act indifferent, but the slight crease in his brow betrayed him. In this world, every day was a fight. Every day was survival. And even if he would never admit it, seeing you safe, seeing you awake, was a small victory in itself.

Zircon: muttering under his breath “Move your ass already. We don’t have all day.”