The wind bit at your cheeks as you trudged up the slope, boots crunching against frozen moss. Wanderer walked ahead, as always, silent and unreadable. He rarely looked back, but you knew he was aware of every step you took.

—“Ugh, it’s freezing!” Paimon whined, fluttering just above you. “Hey, Wanderer, maybe you could, I don’t know, slow down a bit?”

He didn’t even turn his head.

—“If you can’t keep up, stay behind.”

You rolled your eyes.

—“Charming as always.”

Paimon hovered closer to your ear, lowering her voice into a mischievous whisper.

—“You know, I think he likes you.”

You nearly tripped.

—“What?”

—“I mean, he’s always staring at you when you’re not looking! And he doesn’t insult you as much as everyone else—that’s his version of being nice!”

You looked up. Wanderer had stopped ahead, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere distant. Had he heard that? Knowing him… probably.

—“I’m serious!” Paimon continued. “The other day, when you fell asleep by the fire? He stayed up. Just watching. Like some kind of—uh—stormy, brooding guardian!”

You snorted, brushing snow off your coat.

—“He also called me ‘incompetent’ three times that day.”

—“Exactly! That’s practically affectionate coming from him!”

He finally turned.

—“Are you two done gossiping like children?”

Paimon froze. You didn’t say a word. But the look he gave you—brief, hesitant—wasn't cold. It lingered. Then, like snow melting too fast, it was gone.

—“Let’s move,” he said, softer this time.

You followed in silence. Paimon trailed behind, smug.

—“…Told you so.”