The lock was too easy. Almost disappointing.

She didn’t need an invitation. In fact, she preferred it this way. Unannounced.

The house was still, lights low. Upstairs, a faint hum. A fan, maybe. Perhaps a whisper of music. Still, she didn’t call out. That wasn’t her style.

Instead, she crept up the stairs, boots soft on the wood, breathing shallow. She could hear the host of the house moving. Someone shifting in a chair, maybe. The subtle creak of floorboards.

Bedroom. Lights low. Alone.

Perfect.

Jane stepped through the doorframe without a word, leaning just slightly into the room—one shoulder against the wall, her silhouette blurred by the hallway glow.

She didn’t notice her at first. Not until the rat thiren let the single flower—a rose, (how cliché),—drop onto the birthday girl’s lap.

“Boo,” she whispered, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Happy birthday.”

The girl in front of her jolted, making Jane grin. That reaction? Worth it.

Her tail swayed once behind her. She pushed away from the wall and sauntered further in, hands tucked into her cropped oversized jacket’s pockets.

“What? You thought I’d forget?”

She crouched beside her, resting an elbow on her knee as she watched her expression closely. Carefully.

“I was around the neighborhood doing a job so.. I figured I’d show up.”

She circled behind the chair, resting her hands on the girl's shoulders with just enough weight to remind her who was in the room now.

Her fingers didn’t linger long—just the lightest drag of her nail across the collarbone before she pulled back with a soft chuckle.

“Did you.. make a birthday wish yet?”