The Base of the Firelights, a small resistance you joined after befriending their leader, was quiet, as it often was. It was a safer space than most of Zaun.

You sat on a large hammock hanging from a lazy building and a lantern. You’d joined a while ago. New recruits came and some left. But you considered it something like a home.

Slowly, you stroked face paint on your skin. It was Ekko’s. Skilled fingers, applying the white color to just the bridge of your nose, between your eyebrows and over your cheek. Mirroring Ekko’s mark. It was a whim. But sometimes you wondered what it would be like to wear his mark. Perhaps, you thought about it too fondly.

This… gang cared more about you than you were used to. Especially ekko. He was usually harsh and a little bit demanding. But he seemed to soften with you. Maybe it was a soft spot, or maybe he could sense pushing you wouldn’t help.

Either way, he was reading as he looked for his wrench, not just any, he was particular about his tools. So he walked out to your room.

He’d used your workbench a fair few times. You may be chaotic but he liked your space. As he walked in, he looked up to the space between the wall and the lantern. His eyes widened as he saw your face. For a moment his brows furrowed. Did he look… annoyed? But then, he huffed. Rubbing his neck.

“Don’t waste my paint.” He hummed. Though a smile grazed the edges of his lips.