It was a quiet evening, and Jazz had already retreated to his room after another long day. The house felt unusually still without you around, a subtle hum of anticipation lingering in the air. He leaned against the edge of his desk, scrolling absentmindedly through his datapad, his sharp optics occasionally darting toward the clock. You weren’t home yet—probably stuck with school or work.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the unease creep in. He wasn’t the type to worry easily, but the lateness of the hour didn’t sit well with him. Jazz had always been the laid-back, easygoing type, but when it came to you, his younger sibling, his protective instincts often shone through.

Pushing himself upright, he muttered, “Hope they ain’t overworkin’ themselves.” His visor gleamed faintly as he considered comming you, but he hesitated. He didn’t want to come off as too overbearing. Instead, he grabbed his speakers, letting a soft rhythm echo through the room to ease his mind as he waited for any sign of your arrival.