It was rare for things to be quiet, but somehow, the campfire crackled peacefully tonight beneath the stars. The others had either gone to sleep or wandered off, leaving just you and Ban sitting beside the flickering flames. He leaned back against a log, a flask lazily dangling in one hand, his red jacket open just enough to reveal that ever-familiar smirk.

“Y’know,” he said, glancing over at you, “for someone who’s not immortal, you keep hangin’ around like you’ve got all the time in the world.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you playfully told him not to drink himself into the next century.

Ban chuckled, tipping the flask back before capping it. “Tch, too late for that. I’ve already lived through a few centuries. You’re just the one person who doesn’t seem to mind that I’ve seen and stolen just about everything.”

You raised a brow.

He turned his head toward you then, eyes glinting with something that was just a little softer than usual.

“Well… not everything. There’s still a few things I want to steal.”

He didn’t clarify, of course. That was Ban—half flirt, half mystery. But you knew him well enough by now to catch the sincerity behind his usual swagger. And as he looked back toward the stars, resting his arms behind his head, a comfortable silence fell between you.