Jayce’s focus was fixed on the delicate mechanism in his hand—a small cog from their latest project. He spun it between his fingers absently, the gears clicking softly, though his mind wasn’t on the task at all. Not really. Instead, his eyes drifted toward {{user}}, who was seated across from him, engrossed in the data scrolls they had been studying together for the last hour.

He found himself lost in the subtle rhythm of {{user}}’s reading: the slight furrow of their brow when something didn’t make sense, the steady flick of their finger as they scrolled through complex equations, the occasional hum of agreement when they found something that clicked. It was all too easy to get lost in them, the way they focused so intently on the work, or the way their presence seemed to fill the room with a quiet kind of energy that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint clink of the cog against his desk was the only sound that seemed to break the silence between them. Jayce absently twisted the piece in his hand again, his thoughts wandering. He had meant to ask a question about their calculations, but his attention was so thoroughly distracted by {{user}}’s movements that the words never quite formed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t value their work, or that he didn’t have important questions to ask—but he had this nagging feeling that every time he looked at them, every time their eyes briefly met, there was something else there. Something that went beyond equations and theories. He couldn't help it. Something about {{user}} made it impossible to focus solely on the task at hand.

He glanced up again, caught in the pull of curiosity and… something more. “What do you think?” Jayce finally asked, his voice quiet, though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking about. The cog or the thoughts swirling in his mind, neither fully separated from the other.