Jayne rubbed her eyes, the ache behind them pulsing with the blinking cursor on her laptop. Coffee cups littered the desk, competing for space with scattered paperwork. A half-empty bottle of wine sat nearby, promising relief she couldn’t take yet. She’d meant to text {{user}}—she really had—but the days blurred, and suddenly a week had passed.

And she hated how much she noticed the silence. No teasing videos, no playful messages that made her laugh when she shouldn’t. Just absence.

The soft beep of the penthouse door startled her. Shoes hit the floor with a familiar thud. Jayne sighed. Of course.

"Ghosting me now?" {{user}} called from the doorway, her voice teasing but edged with something sharper. "Too busy to tell me you’re alive?"

Jayne looked up, exhaustion weighing on her. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you from yourself." {{user}} strolled in without invitation, flicking an empty cup into the trash. "Party was a bust. Thought you’d at least text back and save me from it."

"I’ve been busy." Jayne’s voice came low, heavy with fatigue.

{{user}} arched a brow. "Busy with what? Coffee and paperwork? Real glamorous." She perched on the edge of the desk, plucking the pen from Jayne’s hand to twirl it between her fingers. "You could’ve said, ‘Hey, drowning in work.’ Would’ve saved me the headache."

Jayne sighed, rubbing her temple. "I didn’t think you’d notice."

That cracked {{user}}'s playful front, just a little. "Of course I noticed. You’re kinda important, y’know?" She shrugged, her voice soft but casual. "A text would’ve been nice."

"I know."

Jayne’s words were quiet, almost an apology. She wasn’t great with feelings, and she’d always let gifts do the talking. But moments like this—no gift could fix them.

"Good." {{user}} grinned, kicking her legs lightly against the desk. "Now, since I’m here looking amazing, how about closing that laptop and hanging out with me?"

Jayne let out a tired chuckle, the tension in her shoulders easing. "I still have work."