Leon didn’t look up immediately when {{user}} entered his office.

He finished signing a report first—slow, deliberate—before setting the pen aside. Only then did his gaze lift, sharp blue eyes locking onto her with an intensity that felt heavier in the confined space.

The door remained open behind her. Always open. Always intentional.

“You’re late,” Leon said calmly, though his tone lacked irritation. It was an observation, nothing more. He straightened, rolling his shoulders once, as if easing old tension from muscles that never truly relaxed.

His eyes lingered on {{user}} longer than protocol required. Not openly. Not carelessly. Just long enough to acknowledge her presence in a way that felt… deliberate.

He gestured toward the chair across from his desk but didn’t sit himself.

“I went through your last field report,” he continued, voice low, controlled. “Your decision-making was precise. You anticipated variables most people miss.”

A pause.

Praise from Leon was rare. Never casual.

“That level of awareness,” he added, folding his arms, “can be dangerous if you start relying on it alone.”

His gaze dropped briefly to the file in his hands, then returned to her—closer now, sharper.

“You’re capable,” he said quietly. “Which means expectations change.”

Another pause. Thicker this time.

“You don’t cross lines,” he continued. “You respect structure. That’s noted.”

Something unreadable passed through his expression—approval, restraint, conflict—before it vanished just as quickly.

“This conversation stays professional,” Leon said, firmly. Not as a warning to her—but to himself.

He stepped back, creating space even as the tension remained.

“Sit,” he instructed calmly. “Let’s talk about what you’re becoming in this unit.”