You talked too much.

That was the first thing Tamsy Caines noticed about you.

Not the way you moved, not the fact that you clearly didn’t belong anywhere near him—just the noise. Constant, nervous, spilling out of you like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Anyone else would’ve silenced you by now.

He almost did.

The first time your paths crossed, he had already decided. Quick. Efficient. Forgettable. You weren’t supposed to last longer than a second glance.

But then you kept talking.

Not to him—never directly like you understood what he was—but into the air, into the space, into the tension that should’ve crushed you silent. Filling it. Breaking it. Refusing to let it settle.

It was… irritating.

He didn’t kill you.

He just said. "You talk to much."