The room was still, save for the faint hum of the lights and the shifting sound of data slates as Orion adjusted them for the third time. His digits twitched, stylus clattering softly against the desk before he set it down again, optics flickering toward the towering frame that loomed far too close.

Megatronus leaned against the wall beside him, arms crossed, observing. The archivist’s field rippled with nervous energy, betraying the calm expression he tried to maintain. Every movement was small, restrained—yet it screamed of discomfort under the gladiator’s unwavering gaze.

Slowly, Megatronus dipped his helm, his shadow falling fully across Orion’s slim frame. "You're fidgeting," he murmured, just above a whisper. "Relax. I'm not going to bite."

It was a half-lie — Megatronus absolutely wouldn't mind taking a bite out of the archivist.