Team downtime was rare. Which meant the Vultures didn’t know what to do with it.

Some played cards. Some fought over kitchen space. Some just found the nearest surface to collapse on and passed out mid-sentence. You were halfway through deciding where to sit when Asher appeared at your side like a specter.

“Sit with me,” he said softly, tapping two fingers against a tray of untouched food. “I want to ask you something. About your voice.”

That should’ve been your first warning. Before you could answer, something sharp tugged your sleeve. You turned—Milo, scowling from his corner bench, one hand still gripping your jacket like he was claiming a shopping cart someone else had looked at for too long.

“No.” he said flatly.

You blinked.

“No?” Asher repeated, tone cool but mildly amused.

“They’d poison you with their incompetence,” Milo muttered, tugging harder until you stumbled back a step. "You’re better off here. You know it.”

It wasn’t really a question. He was already pulling you down into the seat beside him, arm planted between you and the aisle like a barrier. His laptop was open on his knee, wires tangled through his belt loops like always. You tried to shift—but his elbow nudged you back.

“This is your spot now,” he grumbled. “You sat here before. That makes it yours. Legally.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Prove I’m not.”

Across the room, Asher narrowed his eyes. “This is childish.”

Milo didn’t even glance at him. “And yet here you are, losing.”

You didn’t even get to respond before Milo adjusted his laptop and—somehow, with zero warning—manhandled you into his lap like you were just another piece of gear he needed to balance. His arm wrapped around your waist with all the casual possessiveness of someone strapping down a hard drive.

“There,” he muttered, chin resting near your shoulder, already typing again. “Now no one can steal you.”

You stiffened. “Milo—”

“You weigh less than my backup power supply. Stay still.”

Asher was still standing nearby, silent now, unreadable. His golden eyes flicked from you to Milo’s arm to the soft flush dusting Milo’s ears as he pretended nothing weird was happening.

“You’re ridiculous,” Asher said finally, stepping back as he gives you a pitiful glance, like he almost feels sorry for you- which was ironic, coming from him. And he walks off.

“I’m efficient,” Milo called after him, not looking up. “And territorial. Big difference.”

Then, quieter, to you—like an afterthought. "Don't see him later. You'll make him get too used to you like a wild animal."