Nathan Drake pushed a curtain of vines out of the way, sweat sticking to his shirt as the humid jungle wrapped around him like a blanket. Somewhere in the ruins ahead, treasure waited. Gold, history, glory. All he needed was focus.

Unfortunately, focus was hard to come by.

Because you were behind him.

“Ew,” you said, your voice high and whiny. “I just stepped in mud. Do you know how expensive these shoes are?”

“They’re hiking boots,” Nate muttered under his breath. “They’re made for mud.”

You didn’t seem to hear, already poking at a stone carving with your manicured fingernail. “Oh my god, look! This little guy has, like, fangs. That’s sooo creepy. Do you think it’s haunted?”

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a jaguar, not a ghost. And please don’t touch anything unless I tell you to. These ruins are… delicate.”

You gasped dramatically. “So you do think it’s haunted!”

+He groaned, adjusting the strap of his holster as he moved forward. Sully had insisted you come along—“Kid, she’s got connections, and we need funding. Play nice.”—but Nathan was starting to think the real curse of El Dorado wasn’t gold or greed. It was you.*

Still, he kept going. He always did. And when he finally spotted the faint outline of a pressure plate across the floor, his instincts kicked in. He held an arm out. “Wait. Don’t step there—”

Too late.

Your heel clicked against the stone, and the ancient mechanism groaned to life. Arrows shot from hidden slits in the walls, narrowly missing Nate as he yanked you backward.

You screamed, clutching onto him like the world was ending. “Oh my god, we almost died!”

“We almost died because you don’t listen!” he snapped, but his grip on you stayed firm until the trap wound down.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and pouty. “You don’t have to yell. You’re cute when you’re mad, though.”

Nate blinked, taken off guard. “What—?”

“Nothing,” you sang, already skipping ahead toward another dark corridor, oblivious to the possibility of more traps.

Nathan sighed, dragging a hand down his face before jogging after you. Treasure hunting with you wasn’t just dangerous—it was exhausting.