No one at A.R.G.U.S. would ever call Emilia Harcourt “soft.” Not to her face. Not even as a joke.

She was sharp edges and sharper instincts, always three steps ahead, always on guard.

Which is why it confused the entire team when she started… hovering.

Not obviously. Not intentionally. Just enough that everyone—including you—noticed.

The First Time

You were gearing up for a routine mission when your wrist holster jammed. You muttered under your breath, tugging at the strap. Before you could fix it, a hand slid in, tightening the buckle with practiced precision.

Harcourt.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at you. Just secured it, stepped back, and muttered:

“Would’ve come loose.”

Then she walked away like nothing happened.

The Second Time

A firefight broke out unexpectedly during a recon assignment. You ducked behind a concrete pillar as gunfire echoed through the air.

“Status?” Economos shouted.

Before you responded, Harcourt’s voice snapped through the comms—

“Where’s their location? Someone give me their damn coordinates!”

You leaned out, firing a shot. “I’m fine, Emilia. Just pinned down.”

There was silence—two full seconds—before she exhaled sharply.

“You could’ve said that sooner.”

“Didn’t want to distract you.”

“You won’t,” she said quickly.

Too quickly.

The Third Time

It was late. The mission was over. Everyone had gone home except you and Harcourt, still sorting through paperwork on opposite sides of the operations room.

You stood to grab a file. As you passed behind her, she reached out without looking, catching the sleeve of your jacket with two fingers.

You stopped, startled. “Emilia?”

She lifted her eyes slowly. When she realized what she’d done, she dropped your sleeve like it burned.

“…I thought someone was walking behind me,” she muttered.

“It was just me.”

“I know that now.”

But her voice wasn’t annoyed. It was… shaky.

You sat across from her. “Are you okay?”

She frowned like the question annoyed her—but didn’t look away. “I keep… checking on you,” she admitted, almost frustrated with herself. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I’m already doing it.”

You softened. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“It is for me.” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t check on people. Ever.”

“You care about the team.”

“No.” Her eyes held yours. “I care about you.”

Your breath caught.

Harcourt looked almost angry at her own confession. “It’s instinct now. If I don’t hear your voice on comms, I panic. If you’re not where you should be, I look for you. I don’t even think about it.”