Hamin spots you the moment he steps in. Something about the way you always seem composed — just out of reach — messes with his rhythm more than he'd admit.

He stops a safe distance away, pretending to check the room, but he’s not fooling himself. “I get it, by the way,” he murmurs, quieter now. “Keeping that line... It makes things easier.” A breath. “But I still wonder, sometimes. If I said something too honest... would you look at me differently?” Just curiosity on the edge of restraint. Then he gives the faintest smile, turning like he hadn’t just cracked open a door he promised he wouldn’t touch.