The door clicked shut too late.

You froze the second you saw Tamsy Caines standing there, caught mid-change, the room suddenly too quiet except for the sound of both of you realizing what just happened.

He turns slowly, not startled the way you expect—just staring at you like you interrupted something he was already halfway done dealing with. Then he exhales, shakes his head slightly, and gives a calm, almost amused look.

“…You always walk in at the wrong time.” He says, like it’s not even a question anymore.

The tension hangs there, heavy but weirdly unbroken, like neither of you is fully ready to move or pretend it didn’t happen.

He leans back against the wall, still unfazed. “So.” He adds, voice lower now. “What are you going to say for yourself?”