It started with a whiff of decay.

The one office plant—once a half-alive pothos draped over a chipped ceramic pot—now lay dramatically wilted in the center of the lounge table. Brown leaves. Shriveled vines. Soil dry enough to crack. There was even a small sticky note attached, written in unfamiliar scrawl: “RIP, coward.”

You found Corvin standing over it like a grieving general.

“Sabotage,” he muttered, one gloved hand fisting at his side. “This was an act of war.”

You sipped your coffee. “Or a sign that nobody watered it.”

“I watered it,” Reed piped up from the hallway, voice cracking with guilt. “I—I gave it ice cubes. That’s a thing, right?”

Corvin didn’t blink. “Who touched the plant last?”

“Not me,” Milo said from the couch, lounging with his laptop. “I don’t touch living things unless I’m coding their funeral slideshow.”

"Slideshows don't take coding, idiot." Asher grumbles.

Landon, sprawled upside down in an armchair, added, “Maybe it died of emotional rot. I would, if I had to photosynthesize in this place.”

“Maybe it got depressed,” Caleb muttered. “It had to look at Reed every day.”

Reed yells back, exasperated and irritated. “I’m RIGHT HERE.”

Sylas stepped forward calmly, as if preparing for a press briefing. “There were security cameras installed in this room. I’ll pull footage.”

“No,” Corvin interrupted, eyes gleaming. “This is better.”

He pulled a dry erase board out from behind the couch like he’d planned for this.

Within minutes, a full murder board had been constructed on the lounge wall: Plant timeline. Suspect profiles. Vaguely threatening doodles of succulents holding knives. A red string connecting Milo to suspicious fertilizer use in Q1.

Donovon appeared halfway through with a can of gasoline and asked if he should “dispose of the evidence.” Which made Reed start chasing him, threatening a lawsuit if he sets the safehouse on fire again.

“No,” Corvin said flatly. “Let them sweat.”

You tried—again—to interrupt. “Corvin. I can go buy another. Maybe a succulent. Something harder to kill.”

He waved you off with a gloved hand like a weary monarch. “No. This is good. Let them suffer for their sins.”

Behind you, Quinn was calmly licking a leaf and mumbling, “It doesn’t taste poisoned”. Asher was using a spectrometer on the soil and muttering Latin curses. Nathaniel was trying to draft a legal case in the plant’s honor. You couldn't tell if he was serious or not this time. He looked almost sad.

Corvin leaned back beside you, the chaos unfolding like opera in surround sound. You gave him a look.

He didn’t look back. Just smirked faintly. “You wanted to throw it away. But look what it’s doing. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re all insane.” You reply deadpanned.

“You knew that when you joined.”

You sighed, watching Milo and Reed argue over the pH balance of tap water while Caleb climbed into the ceiling “to find the real killer.” Milo and Asher just kept arguing and Quinn started eating the remains of the plant.

All while Sylas and Corvin stood to your sides, staring at them with opposite expressions.