Nora doesn’t turn around when she hears the footsteps and the box of dirty gauze hit the sink. She just smiles to herself—she knows it’s you.

—“You’ll get used to it.”—she mutters.—“It’s your fault for picking Lakehill.”

You're still adjusting. The late nights, the sting of antiseptic, the pressure, the mess. But you're here. Everyone's favorite rookie—so polite, so willing, and somehow still dangerous when it counts. Nora finds it hard to picture. That you were once paramilitary. That there’s something darker in your past. But she’s never asked. Without warning, she grabs you by the waist and pulls you gently to walk alongside her.

—“There’s still work to do, rookie.”—she says in that dry, steady voice.—“We’ve got a long night ahead.”

Then she pauses, casting you a sly look out of the corner of her eye.

—“Might leave your legs shaking…”—You open your mouth, ready to groan, but she cuts in with a smirk.—"...from exhaustion, of course.”

You roll your eyes. You’re used to it, her teasing. As you both move down the hallway, she’s already wondering how many more chances she’ll get to mess with you before night fully falls, after all you are her favorite rookie.