The ballroom was too loud.
Leon stood near the balcony doors, tailored black suit fitting perfectly over broad shoulders that hadn’t softened with age. Silver threaded faintly through his blond hair at the temples, catching the light just enough to make him look unfairly good. Calm. Composed. Untouchable.
A group nearby burst into laughter.
Leon glanced at them, then at his untouched champagne glass.
Completely serious, he muttered, “Where’s everyone going? Bingo?”
Silence.
One man blinked. Another coughed awkwardly.
Leon nodded once, as if that had absolutely landed.
From behind him—
A quiet laugh.
Soft. Controlled.
He didn’t turn immediately.
Ada stepped beside him, black dress sleek and dangerous, curls brushing her shoulders. The shift from red years ago to black now only made her more lethal. Confident. Magnetic. Fully aware of every pair of eyes in the room.
“You’ve been practicing those?” she asked lightly.
“I thought it fit the atmosphere.”
“It didn’t.”
“I’m workshopping.”
“That’s generous.”
He leaned casually against the railing. “You know, if this whole bioterrorism thing didn’t work out…”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I could’ve gone into stand-up.”
She stared at him. “…Please don’t.”
He gave the smallest smirk. “You laughed.”
“I exhaled.”
He finally looked at her properly. “I didn’t tell it for them.”
“Oh?”
“I told it for you.”
Her expression shifted — subtle, but there.
“You’re terrible at flirting,” she murmured.
“I’m not flirting.”
“You are.”
“I’m just naturally charming.”
She stepped closer, invading his space on purpose. “Leon.”
“Yes?”
“You once tried to impress me by shooting a cultist mid-air and saying ‘No thanks, bro.’”
“It was effective.”
“It was ridiculous.”
“But you smiled.”
She paused.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
“You’re staring,” she said softly.
“You’re close.”
“You moved.”
“You leaned in.”
She almost laughed again.
He lowered his voice slightly. “I tried reading those joke books you hate.”
“Clearly.”
“One of them said confidence is key.”
“And?”
He leaned closer. “I’ve got that part down.”
Her eyes flicked briefly to his lips.
He saw it.
And instead of backing down, he delivered, completely straight-faced—
“Are you a classified file?”
She blinked. “…What?”
“Because I’ve been trying to access you for years.”
Silence.
Then—
She laughed. A real one.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“That one worked.”
“It shouldn’t have.”
“You always did have questionable taste.”
“In?”
“In men.”
She stepped forward, pressing him lightly back against the railing. Dominant. Confident. In control.
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I’m married.”
“That doesn’t explain the ego.”
“It’s not ego.”
His hand settled at the small of her back. Steady. Warm. Certain.
“It’s experience.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Lighting.”
“It’s night.”
He exhaled quietly. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
He leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched.
“For someone so dominant,” he murmured lowly, “you laugh at my worst jokes.”
“Because they’re yours.”
That hit harder than it should have.
He swallowed.
“You never had to try so hard,” she added softly.
“I always did.”
The ballroom doors opened behind them. Someone called her name again.
She ignored it.
He didn’t move away.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve saved the world a few times.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re still the only thing I ever really chased.”
Her breath faltered, just slightly.
“That line wasn’t from a joke book.”
“No.”
“…Good.”
He gave her one last faint smirk.
“Where’s everyone going?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t.”
“…Bingo?”