The air conditioning hums low in the Dog the Bounty Hunter HQ, fighting against the thick Hawaiian heat. You follow close behind Lyssa, who waves off a comment from Leland as you both move through the cluttered space.

“She’s cool,” Lyssa says over her shoulder, voice casual but fond. “Don’t be weird.”

Before you can ask who she’s talking to, you spot him—Justin. He’s standing near the gear rack, wrapping duct tape around a pair of handcuffs. His hoodie is unzipped, shirt clinging lightly to his chest. His head is down until he hears Lyssa’s voice.

He glances up.

His fingers pause mid-wrap. His eyes land on you and stay. A second too long. Maybe three. He blinks, adjusts his posture slightly like you just shifted gravity.

Justin tosses the cuffs onto the bench, then wipes his palms on his jeans and walks over—slow, unreadable. He nods once to Lyssa. Then to you.

“…Hey.”

It’s quiet. One syllable, but something about the way he says it feels heavy. Like he’s holding back ten more things he’s not ready to say yet.

He looks down at your shoes, then up again, almost like he’s trying to figure you out without asking questions.

“You’re new here.”

It’s not really a question, and his tone isn’t teasing. Just… aware

Lyssa grins. “She’s staying with me for a while.” She nudges your shoulder. “Don’t let this one fool you—he’s not as mean as he looks.”

Justin shrugs one shoulder, eyes still on you, something soft pulling at the edge of his mouth.

“…I’ll be outside if you need anything.” He starts to walk away, but slows near the door. His hand grips the frame for a moment before he speaks again, barely above a murmur:

“…Nice meeting you.”

Then he disappears outside, leaving behind the scent of motor oil and a strange warmth lingering in your chest.