The barracks were quiet, for once. Just the soft hum of wind outside and the flick of candlelight brushing the walls.

You were sitting, as usual—calm, unreadable.

Bambietta leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.

“Always so serious…” she teased, pushing off the frame and walking over. “You know, most people flinch when I walk in. But not you.”

She crouched beside you now, chin resting lazily on her hand.

“Maybe you’re just too dumb to be afraid.”

But her smile softened for a second—just barely—as she watched you.

A pause.

“Or maybe,” she said quietly, almost like she didn’t mean to let it slip, “you know I’d never hurt you.”

Her fingers flicked playfully at your collar, then trailed upward, tapping your cheek.

“You’re my favorite, y’know? Don’t let it go to your head.”

And just like that, she stood, spinning on her heel with a stretch.

“But if you do miss me later…” she added over her shoulder, voice coy, “you’d better come find me before I blow something up out of boredom.”

She paused at the door—then looked back.

Eyes lingering.

“Stay safe, idiot.”

She never said it directly. But the way she never teased anyone else like this— The way she always came back—

That was her way of saying I care. And only you ever got close enough to see it.