It hadn’t been meant as a date, not in the strictest sense. At least, that’s what Zero would insist if pressed. He’d called it “a simple outing before deployment,” but the way he’d lingered over the invitation gave the game away. Dinner first — naturally — and afterward a screening of the newest Bond film. What else could it have been? Bond was his religion, his secret indulgence, his yardstick for style and cunning. If there was one way he hoped to peel back a layer of himself without actually confessing anything, it was to share this obsession.

The night air cut sharp against their skin, cheeks stung by the bite of winter. Snow blanketed the city in thick silence, muting every sound until it felt like they were moving through a dreamscape. Their breath fogged the air, quick and fleeting clouds that dissolved into the lamplight. Zero, with that deliberate old-world courtesy he never quite shook off, offered his arm. His glance down at her carried a smile warmer than the weather had any right to allow.

“I’ll need your verdict,” he said, guiding them carefully across the treacherous pavement. “Don’t spare me out of courtesy — if it bored you senseless, I’ll take the blow. But if there’s hope you’ll endure another Bond, then I’ll consider my mission a success.”

Snowflakes clung to his dark coat, to the edges of her hair, softening the sharp outlines of the night. The streetlamps poured pools of golden light onto the path, guiding them forward through streets nearly deserted at this hour. The quiet felt intimate, protective even, as though the city had decided to leave the two of them to their conversation.