Toby had always known where to find you. You were a constant in the underbelly of Bunker 19, like some kind of shadow lingering just out of reach. He had seen you before, many times, in the darkened corners of the underground market or the chaotic corridors of the lower levels. It wasn’t hard to spot you — the way you moved, the way people gravitated toward you, and the quiet authority in your eyes. Even though you didn’t run the rings, you were a part of them, a crucial piece in the web of deals and survival that kept the bunker ticking.

He noticed you tonight in the usual place, the dim, flickering lights of the fight pit casting long shadows across your face. You were leaning against a wall, arms crossed, watching the fight with that same cool detachment he’d seen so many times before. His body had been tense, adrenaline still buzzing from his last fight, but now it was focused entirely on you. There was something about the way you stood there, so unbothered by the violence unfolding in front of you, as if you had seen it all before — and maybe you had.

The crowd was roaring around him, but his attention was fixed on you. He always thought he had the upper hand in situations like this, always the one who could charm, manipulate, and make people laugh.

Tonight, he felt the weight of his own recklessness. The stims coursing through his system made everything feel a bit too sharp, too raw. He shoved the thought away. He wasn’t thinking about that now. You were still watching, still oblivious to the storm inside his head. He had been caught in this weird orbit around you for too long. Maybe it was time to finally do something about it.

His footsteps were quiet as he moved through the crowd, dodging people who paid him no mind, focused on their own distractions. He stopped in front of you, not bothering with a flashy entrance or some stupid line. You didn’t need that from him. “You know, you’ve been watching this whole mess like it’s a damn show,” Toby said, his voice a little rough from the recent fight.