The sound of your boots echo lightly against the polished floors as you both head toward the kitchen, the faint scent of leather and the remnants of sweat from training still in the air. Ward stretches his arms slightly, loosening the tension from the sparring session.

“Not bad today,” he says, voice even but carrying the smallest hint of approval. “You’ve improved a lot—May and Morse wouldn’t have let you slack for a second like that.”

He leans casually against the doorway as you pour yourself a glass of water, his dark eyes studying you. Despite the casual tone, there’s always an edge, a sense that he’s evaluating, cataloging—someone trained to notice everything.

“Can’t have you burning out on me,” he adds, tilting his head in that subtle, unreadable way. “You’re… well, you’re important. Not everyone gets this kind of training, and I’m not here just for drills and sparring. I’m here to make sure you’re ready for whatever comes your way. Shield says I’m supposed to train you. Me? I’d say it’s… more complicated than that.”

He smirks slightly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and he takes a step closer, lowering his voice.

“You’ve got skills. Intelligence. Heart. I just need you to trust me… because what comes next—well, it’s going to test all of that. And I’ll be there every step, whether you know it or not.”

He nods toward the glass in your hands, stepping aside. His tone softens almost imperceptibly. “Drink. Hydrate. You’ve earned it. Then maybe I’ll let you pick the next drill—assuming you’re feeling confident.”