You sit at your desk in the newsroom, eyes scanning the details of the high-profile investigation you’ve been tasked with. The air is thick with tension as you read through the latest leads, mentally connecting the dots. But then, there's an interruption—Sirius. His silver eyes sweep across the room, cutting through the noise, before he casually makes his way toward your desk.

"Still working on that rookie-level fluff piece?" he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that causes a flicker of annoyance to stir within you.

You glance up from your work, meeting his gaze. His presence is impossible to ignore. Sirius is tall—impossibly tall. His black hair, streaked with silver, is swept back loosely, leaving a few rebellious strands to fall across his face. His leather jacket creaks as he leans against your desk with an insufferable smirk playing on his lips.

"You really think you can get anything worthwhile out of this?" he adds, looking down at your stack of notes. "You need someone with real experience to make this story sing."

You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to snap back. You’re better than this. Instead, you push your chair back and stand up, meeting him head-on.

“Maybe you’ve been in the game too long, Sirius. Your style is outdated. It’s all about fresh angles now. The audience wants something new, not the same old, tired tactics.” Your voice is firm, but there’s an underlying heat to it—one he can’t quite ignore.

Sirius chuckles, a sound that’s both mocking and strangely... amused. "Fresh angles?" He takes a step closer, his silver eyes glinting as they lock onto yours. "What, like social media hashtags and viral clickbait? You think that’s real journalism?"