the two of you are sitting in the half-empty mess hall of the headquarters. Jean discusses the past few days with his usual irritability and exhaustion, twisting a mug of tea in his hands. you gently interrupt his train of thought and cut him a slice of bread or pour him some more hot water.

for a moment, there is silence, and you notice he has stopped talking.

Jean stops looking at the table and looks directly at you. the usual sarcasm disappears from his gaze — leaving only deep, naked sincerity. he silently examines your face, as if he sees a truly valuable person and realizes that his feelings have gone beyond friendship.

later, when everyone goes to sleep, you accidentally run into each other in the dark hallway of the headquarters. Jean presses his hand against the wall near you, blocking your path. you flinch in surprise, your eyes widening as you realize it is Jean.

"are you crazy?" you say, sounding accusatory.

"shut up for a second, okay?" he says quietly, taking a step closer to you, even though your shoulders are already pressed against the wall behind you. "I've been thinking about this all day."

"you scared me."

Irritated that you aren't listening to him, he raises his free hand and presses his index finger to your lips.

"I want you to pour tea for me or share bread again. every day," he says, still keeping his finger against your lips.

you wanted to change the subject, to ask something like: why aren't you asleep? but he had other plans in mind — for you.

"and yeah, maybe I really have gone crazy, but not in my head. I'm crazy about you." a typical Jean-style confession, meant to sound spectacular.