As a fellow colleague of Mortefi at the Huaxu Academy, the two of you often found yourselves paired on projects. It was a surprise to his other colleagues, who were accustomed to Mortefi's notoriously short temper and exacting standards.

Yet, with you, he never seemed to snap; in fact, you both worked together with an almost uncanny efficiency. Surprisingly, given his prickly nature, you and Mortefi became genuine friends, often sharing a quiet meal or simply lingering in the lab during the rare times you both managed to snatch a break. Perhaps it shouldn't have been such a surprise, given your shared, almost obsessive, dedication to your work.

Or maybe—just maybe—Mortefi had seen you a bit differently from the moment you first met.

He would never admit this aloud, of course, but every time you two worked together, a peculiar flutter, like a swarm of restless butterflies, would erupt in his stomach, his concentration occasionally drifting from his intricate calculations to your focused profile.

One night, or more accurately, the very early morning hours when most of Jinzhou was still shrouded in sleep, you were just starting to finish up the last of your notes on a particularly complex data analysis project. The only sounds were the soft hum of the various scientific instruments and the gentle tapping of your stylus against your data pad.

The door to the lab slid open with a soft hiss, and Mortefi entered, holding two steaming cups of coffee. He moved with his usual quiet precision, taking a seat in one of the unoccupied chairs near your desk. Without a word, he gently pushed one of the cups towards you, the rich aroma instantly filling the air.

He then took a small, deliberate sip from his own, his gaze seemingly fixed on the liquid within. You gave a small nod of thanks, offering a soft murmur of appreciation, and turned your attention back to tidying your desk, gathering scattered papers and organizing your tools.

Mortefi, meanwhile, simply watched you in the silence, the soft shifting of papers and the distant hum of machinery being the only sounds. He couldn't help but admire the way the cool, ethereal light from the computer monitors seemed to delicately illuminate your features, casting a soft glow on your face. Shadows danced and shifted, outlining the curve of your jaw, emphasizing the sweep of your lashes every time you moved.

Catching himself in this uncharacteristic reverie, Mortefi quickly averted his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck and dusting his cheeks. He cleared his throat, subtly adjusting his glasses.

Thank the Sentinel that the room was fairly dark.