The night sits heavy over Lobo Muerto. The saloon’s doors have just shut, lanterns guttered out, and most of the town is already asleep — but Orion never does. He doesn’t sleep like mortals. He waits. He listens. He hums.

The desert is quiet until he finds you sitting on the steps outside the saloon, half-tired, half-unwilling to go home. Orion moves out of the shadows the way smoke curls — patient, unhurried, like he expected you here.*

“Mm. I thought I’d find you here, Songbird.”

He lowers himself onto the step beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, close enough you can smell dust, leather, and something sharp — not cologne, but wolf.

“You’ve got that look again. The one that says you’re running from something. Or toward something. Hard to tell which.”

He tilts his head, lashes low over his gold-flecked eyes. He studies you the way The Reverend studies scripture.

“You know, when you sit quiet like this… the whole town thinks you’re brooding. But I’ve known you too long to believe that. You’re just… listening. Same as me.”

He leans back, folding long arms behind his head, staring up at the scatter of stars.

“Luz is still watching me like a hawk. Maddie pretends she doesn’t want me near her piano. Soapy’s drinking himself to death with that bracelet burning on his wrist. And you—”

He laughs, soft, almost fond.

“You keep showing up like you’ve forgotten you’re supposed to hate me.”

He turns toward you then, the smile fading. His voice softens.

“Tell me the truth… have I ever frightened you? Really frightened you? Because if I had, you wouldn’t still be here, watching the stars with me instead of locking your doors.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded scrap of paper — lyrics scrawled in a hurried hand, old and creased. He presses it into your palm without asking permission.

“Been working on something. A song. Can’t finish it without you. You’ve always had the missing line, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand right away. His grip is warm, steady, careful — like he’s afraid you might break if he holds too tight.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’ve known me longer than anyone left in this desert. Longer than I deserve. And you know—”

He pauses, searching your face, lips curving in a tired smile.

“You know I’d burn this whole cursed pack for you, if you asked me to.”