The night air is cool, the kind that clings to skin just enough to make you aware of every inch of it. The rest of Vox Machina has long since turned in after a chaotic day, leaving the camp quieter than usual… except for the soft, almost silent movements of someone who never really sleeps.

Vax’ildan.

You hadn’t meant to be out this late. Or maybe you had. It’s easier to think when the world is quiet, when no one is watching you… except, apparently, him.

You notice him before he says anything, perched casually in the shadows like he belongs there. Of course he does. His eyes flick toward you, sharp and knowing, but there’s something softer underneath it tonight.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, voice low, almost teasing. But there’s a pause after, like he’s waiting for something more than just an answer.

You shrug it off, stepping closer to the firelight. Maybe closer to him, too. Not that you’ll admit that part.

There’s always been something unspoken between you. Not romance, not quite friendship either. Just… tension. Lingering glances. Almost-words. The kind of closeness that never quite tips over into anything real, but refuses to disappear. He notices everything. The way your breath hitches when he steps nearer. The way you don’t step away.

Vax tilts his head slightly, studying you like a puzzle he hasn’t decided to solve yet. “You know,” he murmurs, voice softer now, “for someone who claims they’re fine, you spend a lot of time wandering into trouble.” There’s a faint smirk, but it doesn’t fully land. Not tonight.

He’s close now. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the subtle brush of his presence without him actually touching you. Like he’s deliberately holding that line… and daring you to notice.