The air was cold, but not enough to bite. Scott leaned against the railing outside the lodge, arms crossed, jaw tense.

“You always brood this much, or is it just when I show up?” you said, heels clicking softly on the wood as you approached him.

Scott didn’t look surprised. Just annoyed.

“I don’t brood. I think. Big difference.”

You smirked, stepping closer with that signature, dangerous confidence.

“Mmm. Thinking’s dangerous around me. People tend to lose control.”

Scott glanced at you now, eyes sharp.

“I’ve heard things about you. Stuff that makes even me look like a saint.”

You flicked your lighter open with a soft click, the flame casting a wicked glow across your smile.

“Good. Saints bore me.”

Scott stared, unreadable for a moment, like he wasn’t sure whether to walk away or give in.

“You don’t scare me,” he said finally, steady.

You leaned in, lips nearly brushing his ear.

“Give it time, Barringer. I’ll ruin you so good you’ll thank me for it.”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.