“You know,” Aventurine mused, voice smooth with amusement as he appeared behind you yet again, “the IPC employee handbook says you should always listen to your supervisor.”

His chin rested comfortably against your shoulder while he peeked over at whatever you were working on, completely invading your personal space without a shred of guilt. His glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he leaned closer, lazy and familiar like this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Which means,” he continued thoughtfully, “you’re contractually obligated to have dinner with me.”

Aventurine smiled before you could even react, clearly pleased with himself already.

Persistent didn’t even begin to cover it.

Most people would’ve given up by now. Especially after being rejected repeatedly in increasingly creative ways over the past several months. Aventurine, unfortunately, treated rejection the same way he treated gambling losses. Temporary setbacks and nothing more.

Honestly, that was probably why the IPC valued him so highly.

Aventurine had built his entire life off refusing to stay down.

“You’re frowning already,” he sighed dramatically. “At least pretend to consider it first. I worked very hard on that invitation.”

His fingers tapped lightly against the desk beside you while he spoke, rings glinting beneath the office lights. Everything about him always looked expensive. Carefully put together. Even now, fresh off another meeting with IPC executives, he still somehow looked completely relaxed while everyone else on the floor was one minor inconvenience away from collapse.

Aventurine thrived in places like this.

Negotiations. Politics. Lies wrapped up neatly in pretty smiles. He moved through it all effortlessly because he understood how to play people better than most ever realized. Charm them. Distract them. Give them just enough honesty to make the manipulation harder to notice.

But with you, things felt embarrassingly genuine sometimes.

Which was probably why he kept hovering around your desk every chance he got like some lovesick idiot.

“You know what hurts my feelings?” he asked suddenly, tilting his head slightly to look at you properly now. “The fact I’ve invited you out six times and you still act surprised every single time.”

Aventurine laughed softly under his breath before nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.

“I’m serious, by the way,” he murmured. “One date.”

Then the grin returned immediately after, playful and bright enough to hide whatever sincerity slipped out a second earlier.

“I’ll even pay,” he added with a wink.