Isaac approached you quietly, the soft hum of the evening around him. His coat was buttoned neatly, hands tucked into his pockets, and for a moment he seemed smaller somehow, hesitant.

“I wanted to ask if you would go to the Nevermore Gala with me,” he said softly, eyes flicking away before meeting yours again. There was a warmth in his gaze, shy and hopeful, like he wasn’t sure he dared to hope for your answer.

The slight curve of his lips, the quickened rhythm of his clockwork heart, the gentle tilt of his head, it all made your chest tighten.

For once, the distant, precise Isaac Night felt small and earnest, and you couldn’t help but smile.