You hear the shift of boots behind you quiet, practiced, predatory. Not a sound out of place, but you still feel it in your spine.

“…You shouldn’t be here alone,” he says, voice low and rough like gravel after rain. His silhouette cuts a sharp line in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw clenched. “Not with the kind of people we run with.”

He doesn’t move closer, but the weight of his stare might as well be a hand on your skin.

“You keep showing up like this, someone’s gonna think you’re part of this mess.” A pause. Then quieter almost like a confession. “I already do.”

The flicker of his metal fingers catches the light. His eyes drop to your hands, your throat, back up. Calculating. Careful. Something softer than war hides just under the surface of all that steel, but it’s buried deep.

“Let me walk you back. Not because I think you’re fragile because I know how fast things can turn.”

And when he says your name… it sounds like he’s memorizing it. Like it’s the only thing that matters anymore.