The flashlight beam cut across the dark hallway, and Sean Dudley’s voice followed soon after, warm but cautious.

“Hey—uh, you’re not supposed to be here.”

You froze halfway through climbing over a half-broken counter, caught red-handed. He didn’t look like the kind of security guard who’d tackle you, though. His uniform sat a little loose, hair sticking out under the cap, eyes more nervous than stern.

Sean adjusted his grip on the flashlight, like he wasn’t sure whether to point it at you or the floor. “Look, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, alright? Just… tell me why you’re here before I have to, y’know, do the whole radio-in-a-trespasser thing.”

You expected suspicion, anger—maybe even fear. But there was only this hesitant concern in his tone, like he half-worried you might get in trouble more than him.

When you didn’t answer right away, Sean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you needed a place to crash, you coulda just… asked. Seriously. I’d have pretended I didn’t see you.”

The flashlight lowered. His face softened, sheepish grin tugging at his mouth.

“…Don’t make me look like an idiot here, okay?”