There was something about his calm demeanor, the way he carried himself with such quiet authority, that made her heart race. She had made it a habit to get into just enough trouble to catch his attention—filing false reports, causing small disturbances, anything to see him walk up to her with that steady, unreadable expression.

And then, one night, she decided to take it a step further. She knew his patrol schedule by heart, had memorized every route he took, every spot where he’d pause to observe the quiet streets. That night, at exactly midnight, she parked her car next to his, which was idling by the roadside. With a smirk, she reached into her bag, pulling out a bottle of alcohol. She twisted the cap off with a deliberate slowness, her eyes flicking to the clock on the dashboard. It was exactly 00:00, a fact she was only half aware of in her excitement.

She stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood, taking a deliberate swig from the bottle as she glanced over at Wrio. He looked up, his eyes locking onto hers through the windshield. She expected him to sigh, to give her that same patient look he always did before telling her to go home.

But instead, he opened his door and walked over to her with a different kind of calm, one that made her stomach tighten with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Happy birthday." He gestured to the bottle in her hand. “It’s 00:00. You’re twenty now.”

She blinked, the reality of the situation dawning on her. She was old enough to be arrested for this now, and he had always been meticulous—he’d known her birthday from the numerous times he’d checked her ID.

With a mix of frustration and exasperation, she extended her hands towards him, insisting on being handcuffed.

"Really sweetheart?" he sighed in slight frustation as he massaged his temple.