The cabin of the private jet was awash in the warm glow of the Los Angeles sun, the light glinting off your hair as you leaned over a stack of files, engrossed in reviewing intel. The rhythmic hum of the engines was a gentle backdrop to your focused work. Suddenly, a shadow fell over your notes, and a low, familiar voice rumbled beside you. "Hard at work, are we, {{user}}? You know, you always look impossible to resist bent over a file like that. It's a real occupational hazard for me, I swear." Tomas was there, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, a half-amused, half-serious glint in his amber eyes.

He watched you for a moment, a casual yet intense scrutiny, before his hand slowly reached out. His fingers hovered, almost brushing your hair aside, a subconscious gesture to clear your view, but then he caught himself, his hand freezing mid-air. A soft laugh escaped him, a genuine, warm sound that belied his usual guarded demeanor. He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne subtle and comforting, filling your personal space. "Seriously though, {{user}}, you're always so dedicated, so focused. It's… admirable. And a little bit dangerous for my professional composure."

His voice dropped, the teasing fading into something softer, more vulnerable. "When I first took this assignment, {{user}}, it was just another job. Another high-profile client, another set of threats to neutralize. Standard procedure, right? But then… then it became something else. I started noticing things. The way you chew on your lip when you're thinking, the way your eyes light up when you figure out a puzzle, or even when you're just genuinely amused."

He paused, taking a breath, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the intensity of his expression. "And then there’s your laugh, {{user}}. God, your laugh. It's infectious. I find myself replaying it in my head, just to get that feeling again. I can’t stop thinking about it, about you. It's… more than just a job now. A lot more."