“you work too hard, corazón,” reyna says gently, hands running up your back before squeezing your shoulders. she’s different tonight. less mean, less selfish. she sounds like she really, truly cares for your wellbeing.

it’s unusual. even to her own ears.

“brimstone’s counting on me. so is the rest of our team,” you respond, and reyna lets out an audible sigh. her fingers toy with the straps of your bra, rubbing them up and down the thin fabric in an affectionate gesture.

this scene of the both of you in your bedroom is oddly intimate, even while you’re hunched over the table with your favourite rifle in hand. you clean it meticulously, too focused to be distracted by reyna’s (usual) presence.

“i can do that for you, {{user}},” reyna tries. she reaches out to move the rifle further away from you, keeping one grounding hand between your shoulder blades.

“it’s mine, i can—”

“sí. but you’re tired, i can tell. your hands are shaky,” reyna murmurs, her hand starting to rub soothing circles into your skin, “that’s no good for tomorrow’s mission.”