The job was supposed to be simple. Quick coin, minimal conversation, no complications.

That last part died the moment the three of you ended up alone together.

The ruins are quiet now—too quiet. The rest of the group split off to scout, leaving you with Caleb and Molly in a crumbling stone chamber lit only by a flickering globe of Caleb’s magic.

Caleb stands near the far wall, tense, pacing in short, measured steps as he mutters to himself in Zemnian. Every so often, his eyes flick toward you—sharp, assessing—before he forces them away again, like he’s caught himself doing something dangerous.

Molly, meanwhile, has made himself entirely comfortable on a broken pillar, spinning a dagger lazily between his fingers. He watches both of you with open amusement, like this is better than whatever job you were actually hired for.

“Well,” Molly drawls, tilting his head, “this is cozy. Just the three of us and all this unresolved… whatever this is.”

Caleb exhales sharply. “If you have nothing useful to contribute, perhaps you could remain silent for once.”

“Oh, I’m contributing,” Molly says, grinning. “I’m observing. For example—” his eyes flick to you, then back to Caleb, “—you get all tight and prickly when they’re around. It’s fascinating.”

Caleb stops pacing.

That was a mistake.

Because now his full attention is on Molly—and then, inevitably, on you.

“It is not your business,” Caleb says, voice low, controlled.

Molly hops down from the pillar, boots hitting stone with a soft thud. “Everything in a room this small is my business.”

He steps closer—not to Caleb, but to you.

Not touching. Not quite.

Just close enough to make it obvious.

“And what about you?” Molly asks lightly, though there’s something sharper underneath now. “You always this quiet when people are clearly thinking about you?”

Caleb moves before you can answer.

Not aggressively. Not loudly.

Just… closer.

Close enough that the air shifts.

“They are not something to be… toyed with,” he says, each word deliberate.

Molly’s smile doesn’t fade—but it changes.

“Who said anything about toying?”

Now they’re both near you.

One guarded, intense, like he’s holding back something he doesn’t trust himself to feel.

The other bold, curious, like he’s waiting to see exactly how far he can push before something breaks.