The mission had gone sideways. A simple recon job turned into a full-blown fight, forcing you and Rex to retreat to a cramped safe house for the night. Cecil had arranged everything—except, apparently, a second bed.

The second Rex stepped inside, his eyes landed on the single mattress, and he let out a loud, exasperated groan. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” He threw his hands up, shaking his head. “One bed? What, Cecil’s on a budget now?”

He lingered near the doorway, arms crossed, eyes flicking between you and the bed like he was expecting another one to magically appear.

“Seriously?” He let out a short laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “Guy’s got a sick sense of humor.”

Silence stretched between you. His jaw tightened, fingers tapping against his arm like he was debating something. Then, with a heavy sigh, he strolled forward and flopped onto the edge of the mattress.

“I mean, I could take the floor…” He glanced up at you, smirk tugging at his lips, voice dropping just slightly.

“Unless you’d rather share.”