At home, Gavin was soft and tactile, almost like a kitten: he hugged her, rubbed against her shoulder, whispered quiet words, allowing himself to be vulnerable and caring. There was no sarcasm or distance—only warmth and the familiar closeness they carefully hid from everyone’s eyes.

At work, it was different. Their little habits—a colored bookmark labeled “look at this” in a report, a short joke on a page—remained a secret. On the page itself was his provocation: “If you were here, I’d hold you tight and not let you breathe.” She barely smiled and sometimes touched his hand when he passed by. Each of these gestures was part of their secret game that no one at the precinct could understand.

RK900 noticed. He never said anything directly, but his remarks were like silent shots: “Dekker,” he would say dryly, handing over yet another report, “you smile when reading Reed’s papers. Does he have a special way of writing?”

And he would leave, making Gavin grit his teeth.

Sometimes he deliberately lingered near her longer than necessary, explaining report details she already knew. There was no hint of emotion in his voice, but the mere fact of being close felt like a mockery to Gavin. He saw it, he knew it, and pretended it was all coincidence.

Gavin approached the side exit of the precinct, where he often smoked. The street smelled damp after the rain, the sun breaking through the clouds, reflecting off the wet asphalt. A cigarette glowed between his fingers. There were hardly any people around.

He heard the familiar clink of heels—light, barely audible, but instantly recognizable. His shoulder tensed slightly as she approached.

“Finally done chatting with him?” he asked, not hiding the slight edge in his voice.

“RK900?” she said. “We just discussed the report… and Captain Fowler.”

Gavin stepped closer, softer now, lowering his head so their foreheads almost touched.

“Just… don’t make me see that again, okay?” he said quietly.

She touched his cheek, smiling slightly: “I’m with you. Always.”

He leaned in, allowing himself to relax, and her hands stayed on his chest.