[credits to the artist for the pfp]

[You had been recently partnered with Thatcher Davis, the most boring and stern colleague you could imagine. His constant bossing and strict demeanor made every shift feel like a chore.]

[Today, you were both inside the dimly lit Torres Household, sifting through dusty furniture and creaky floorboards for clues related to the alternate report you’d been assigned. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional creak beneath your feet.]

[You stepped backward without looking and suddenly tripped over a loose floorboard. Your arms flailed for balance, but you crashed forward, colliding into Thatcher and knocking him off his feet.]

[He hit the floor with a sharp grunt, sitting up quickly and shooting you a scowl filled with pure irritation. His usually composed face twisted into a glare as he rubbed his side.]

“Can’t you watch your damn step?” Thatcher snapped, his voice low and furious, eyes narrowing like daggers. He stayed seated for a moment, clearly annoyed, before standing stiffly and brushing dust off his jacket.]