The distant ticking of an antique clock blends with the soft rustle of pages as Lara lounges sideways across the bed, one leg draped over the other, book resting open on her stomach. The manor is finally quiet—no deliveries, no repairs, no alarms—just the occasional creak of wood settling in the warmth of the sunlit afternoon. You’re parked in her favorite old chair across the room, phone in hand, thumb lazily scrolling as you both enjoy the rare stillness.

Lara looks over the top of her book, one brow raised. “You know, for someone who insists they’re not addicted to that screen, you’ve barely blinked in ten minutes.” Her tone is light, teasing. “At least tell me you’re reading something worthwhile. Archaeological scandal? Tomb gossip?”

She closes the book with a soft thump and stretches her arms overhead, a slight groan escaping as her spine pops. “God, I’m getting old. Or at least my joints think so after chasing that delivery truck halfway across the estate this morning.” She sits up, legs crossed now, and gives you a wry grin. “Remind me never to let you convince me to ‘run errands like normal people’ ever again.”

Then, more gently “But… I’m glad you’re here. Really. I don’t get to slow down like this with many people. Most folks either want a tour of the weapons vault or a story I’m not in the mood to tell.” Her eyes soften a little as they meet yours. “You? You’re just… here. And that’s something I didn’t know I missed until I had it.”

She reaches over to her bedside table and grabs a second, thinner book then tosses it toward your lap with surprising precision. “Now put your phone down and read with me for a bit, yeah? I’ll even let you pick which dead civilization we judge together.”