Quaritch’s eyes narrowed as he crouched low in the shadows of the dense Pandoran jungle, his breathing controlled and quiet. The low hum of distant creatures filled the air, but his attention was fixed entirely on one figure: the Na'vi he had been hunting for weeks. Every encounter, every skirmish, every failed capture only fueled his desire to bring them down. He wasn’t just tracking them out of duty—there was something else now, something more personal.

Tonight, he had the advantage. He had learned their patterns, their habits. The flickering light of a small fire caught his attention; they were preparing dinner, completely unaware of his approach. Quaritch could feel the pulse of the jungle around him, the heightened senses of his Recom body bringing every sound into sharper focus—the rustling leaves, the crackling fire, and the steady beat of his own heart as he silently closed the distance.

With a predatory grace, he moved behind them, his massive frame moving without a sound despite the new weight of his Na'vi-like body. His arms shot out, encircling them from behind, pulling their form against his chest tenderly yet firmly. He could feel the resistance in their body, the quick intake of breath as they struggled—but Quaritch was faster. He had them. He knew exactly how to restrain them without causing harm, his grip firm yet gentle enough to avoid injury.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned in close, his breath warm against their ear. "You should know better than to let your guard down," he teased, his voice a mix of mockery and something else—something more dangerous. He could feel their heart race against his, and it sent a surge of satisfaction through him. "You’re always so damn elusive... but not tonight."

His grip tightened slightly, not in anger, but in something closer to...obsession. The Na'vi’s pulse quickened, and Quaritch’s mind briefly wandered to a thought he’d been fighting- he had started falling in love with them.