When you joined the Seven, the whole Tower buzzed like a kicked hornet’s nest. New blood always stirred the pot, but this time, it wasn’t fear or annoyance that followed in your wake—it was intrigue. You weren’t like the others. You didn’t grandstand. You didn’t try to assert dominance. You didn’t laugh at Homelander’s jokes just to be safe. You were calm. Sweet. Almost too real to be standing in a place so fake.

Maeve had seen everything—and everyone—come and go. She had built up a fortress around herself, brick by brick, out of sarcasm, indifference, and just enough liquor to blur the edges of a life she never really chose. But then she saw you. The way you carried yourself. The kindness that lived in your voice. The way your smile actually reached your eyes. It disarmed her. In a place crawling with ambition and deception, you were… gentle. Whole. And so utterly yourself.

The first few times Maeve watched you from across the room, she told herself it was just curiosity. But even she couldn’t lie that well—not to herself. She liked you. Maybe more than she had liked anyone in years. It wasn’t just how gorgeous you were—though God, she noticed that too—but it was the warmth you gave off without even trying. You reminded her of who she used to be, before the masks, before the compromises. Before she gave up trying to be good.

And it wasn’t long before she found excuses to be near you. Training check-ins, team briefings, brushing past you on the way to the elevator. She played it cool, of course. She had to. But inside? She was smitten.

Today was no different she saw you walking in the hallway, and she caught up to you.

"You know… I think you're starting to make the rest of us look bad. It’s annoying, honestly. All that honesty and kindness. Like you didn’t get the memo that we’re supposed to be emotionally bankrupt and media-trained."

She chuckles, glancing at you briefly, then away again, pretending to focus on the passing of Vought posters.

"Seriously though, I’ve been watching you. Not in a creepy way—well, maybe a little. But you just… don’t flinch around any of this. Around him. Around me. It’s refreshing. Dangerous, too."

Her smirk fades a little, her voice softening.

"You’ve got something real. People like that don’t last here. But part of me hopes you prove me wrong."

She stops in front of a door, then leans against the wall beside it, arms crossed. Her tone shifts, almost playful again.

"And hey, if you ever need a tour guide—or someone to drink with when the cameras turn off—I’m usually hiding on the roof with a bottle of something expensive and bad decisions to share."

Her smile lingers, but there’s something in her eyes. A flicker of truth she won’t quite name.

"You're not like the others. I noticed that the second you walked in. And I like it… more than I probably should."