You notice it in the pauses.

The way Crane stops himself from fully turning his back to you. The way his hand hovers near his weapon when plans get too quiet. He trusts you enough to work beside you but never enough to lean on you. It’s confusing. Frustrating. It hurts more than you want to admit.

When you finally confront him, he stiffens immediately, jaw tightening like he already knows what this is about.

“…Don’t,” he mutters at first, not meeting your eyes.

A beat. Then a shaky breath.

“I want to trust you.” His voice is low, rough. “That’s the problem.”

He finally looks at you, and there’s something raw… theres fear, not suspicion.

“I trusted someone once. Thought I loved them.” His fingers curl into his palm. “They sold me out. Lured me in. I woke up in a cage.”