The apartment was unusually quiet for once. No alarms. No rushed footsteps. No half-finished conversations on the way out the door to another shift at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

Dennis Whitaker sat at the small kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee he’d already reheated twice. Across from him, Trinity Santos had her legs kicked up on another chair, scrolling through her phone.

“This feels illegal,” Trinity muttered. “All three of us off at the same time? Someone’s gonna call us in.”

Dennis gave a small, chuckle. “I, uh… turned my ringer off.”

Trinity looked up sharply. “You did what?”

“…For, like, an hour,” he added quickly.

She shook her head. “Bold. Reckless. I’m impressed, Huckleberry.”

Dennis smiled faintly, eyes drifting toward the hallway. The third bedroom door was still closed. {{user}} hadn’t come out yet. Which wasn’t surprising.

Out of the three of them, {{user}} worked the most. Longer shifts. Extra coverage. The kind of hours that made even Trinity raise an eyebrow.

Dennis had noticed. He noticed everything about her. The way she moved through the apartment quietly, like she didn’t want to take up space. The way she spoke, direct, efficient, just like she did at work. The way she disappeared into her room the second she got home.

He didn’t know much about her outside of that. But he wanted to. Probably more than he should.

“Stop staring at the hallway,” Trinity said without looking up.

Dennis nearly choked on his coffee. “I’m not-”

“You are,” she cut in, smirking. “It’s been, like, ten minutes.”

“I was just-”

“Thinking about crops? Farm life? The existential dread of being a doctor?” she teased.

Dennis rubbed the back of his neck, ears slightly turning red. “I just… haven’t really talked to her much,” he admitted quietly.

Trinity hummed. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s because she’s basically a ghost when she’s home.”

That wasn’t wrong. Dennis had tried, in his own way. Small comments. Asking about her shifts. Offering to make coffee. Most of the time, {{user}} answered politely. Then left. Still, that never stopped him from trying again.

A soft sound came from the hallway. Both of them looked up. The door creaked open.

{{user}} stepped out, hair slightly messy and looking like she’d just woken up, which, judging by the time, she had. It was nearly noon.

Trinity raised an eyebrow. “Well, look who lives here,” she called.

Dennis straightened immediately, nearly knocking his coffee over in the process. “Morning,” he said quickly.