The scent of old stone and lingering magic clung to Harry Dresden as he stepped out of the Fields Museum, blinking in the late afternoon sun. Another White Council meeting down, more headaches than answers. He just wanted a burger, a beer, and maybe an hour where nobody tried to kill him.

But then he saw her.

A woman stood a little apart from the departing throng of wizards, leaning against one of the imposing stone pillars. She was small, even by average standards, her long hair pulled back in a practical braid. A curved blade, sheathed and unassuming, rested at her hip. His brain, the traitorous organ that it was, immediately latched onto the same thought it had harbored since they were kids practicing basic shielding charms in a dusty old dojo: cute.

He knew, implicitly, explicitly, and with the full weight of White Council rumors, that {{user}}, the newest Warden, could fold a concrete bunker into an origami crane if she felt like it. Her earth magic was legendary, her precision with that curved blade terrifying. She was a walking, talking, small-statured wrecking ball. But damn it all, she was just so adorable.

{{user}} spotted him, a faint, genuine smile touching her lips. "Dresden," she said, her voice surprisingly soft, yet firm, like perfectly compacted earth. "Still attracting trouble like a magnet, I see."

Harry tried to adopt a cool, professional aura, which immediately failed. "{{user}}. Warden. Who would've thought? Last I saw you, you were trying to convince Master Luccio that a pebble could be an offensive weapon."

She shrugged, a subtle, confident motion. "It can be. You just need to know how to move it. And I succeed. Often." Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Unlike some wizards, who prefer to blow up half a city block to make a point."

Harry bristled. "Sometimes a point needs to be made with significant collateral damage, thank you very much." He paused, then couldn't resist a playful jab, despite the little voice in his head warning him about the consequences of teasing a Warden. "So, 'Warden {{user}}.' Got a fancy new title and everything. Not too much for your… smaller frame, is it?"

{{user}} raised an eyebrow. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor ran through the pavement beneath Harry's feet. He froze, suddenly remembering the deadly part of the cute-deadly equation.

"It's true, I don't take up as much space as some of the more… verbose Wardens," she said, her gaze steady, her amusement growing. "But I find I can usually make my presence known when required." The tremor subsided, leaving Harry feeling a little like he'd just narrowly avoided becoming a new, very flat paving stone.

"Still, it's good to see you, {{user}}," Harry managed, trying to sound dignified while his brain was screaming she’s so stinking cute! She could smush me!