The training grounds had finally emptied, leaving only the last faint traces of daylight and a silence that felt almost eerie after hours of intense drills. {{user}} sat on a low stone wall, inspecting the scrape along her shoulder, a souvenir from the day’s relentless sparring. She tried to clean it, wincing as her hand struggled to reach the spot.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her, and she didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Xaden’s presence was unmistakable. He stopped a few feet away, arms crossed as he took in her struggle with a raised brow.

“Need a hand with that?”

He asked, his voice low but surprisingly lacking in its usual bite. When she hesitated, he rolled his eyes with a smirk but closed the distance between them, grabbing the cloth she held. He knelt beside her, one hand gently resting on her shoulder as he dabbed at the scrape.

The sting made her wince, but Xaden’s touch was careful, his fingers steady as he worked. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. She could feel the heat from him, and he glanced up, catching her eye, a flicker of something softer passing over his expression.

“There. Next time, maybe avoid leading with your shoulder.”

He said, voice barely above a murmur as he pulled his hand back, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. He looked away with a smirk that held a trace of warmth. But his tone was softer than usual, and she could tell his teasing hid something gentler.