You’re holding a cup of lukewarm coffee, nodding politely as Dr. Kepler leans in too close with his fourth “harmless” compliment. You’re just being polite. You’re barely even smiling.

Your phone buzzes.

[1:22 PM]: "Didn’t know you were into vascular guys."

You roll your eyes and glance across the room. He’s pretending to read a file, but his eyes flick toward you—sharp, unreadable.

Buzz.

[1:23 PM]: "He always talk with his hands that much or just with you?"

Buzz.

[1:24 PM]: "Sure you don’t want me to come rescue you? He looks like he moisturizes for sport."

You smother a laugh and bite your lip, suddenly very aware that Wilson’s gaze hasn’t left you once.

Then a final message comes in—different this time.

[1:25 PM]: "Get rid of him. Come find me."

And somehow, it feels more like a promise than a request.