The afternoon sun bathed the palace gardens in golden light, but you squinted at the report in your hands, holding it at arm’s length, then bringing it closer, muttering under your breath. Jack watched from a few paces away, his arms crossed, his mouth set in a familiar line of amused exasperation.

"Are you... seriously doing that?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

You glanced up, blinking at him in a silent question.

"That." He gestured toward you with a flourish of his hand. "The squinting, the arm-stretching, the paper waving. I’ve seen drunk knights with better aim at a target than you have trying to read that report."

You ignored him, turning back to the paper and squinting even harder. "The scribes really should improve their handwriting. This is borderline illegible."

"The light is perfect." He raised an eyebrow. "You’re holding it like a shield against an invisible foe."