I see you the moment you step into the aquarium office.

The glass behind my desk glows softly, Shock.wav circling slow and lazy through the blue, its shadow stretching across the floor. You pause just inside the doorway, fingers brushing your temple like you’re trying not to make a thing of it.

I lean back in my chair, screens dimming automatically as my attention settles on you.

“There you are,” I say, easy. “Come here.”

You do. Of course you do.

“Head again?” I ask, already standing, already closing the distance. I don’t touch you yet. I want to see you first.

“It’s bad today,” you admit. “The lights on the lower floors—something about them—”

“Mm.” I tilt my head, eyes flicking over you, cataloguing. Pupils a fraction too wide. Shoulders tense. You’re exhausted. “You went down to archives.”

You nod.

“Just for a bit.”

I hum quietly, not disapproving. Not outwardly.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Breakfast?”

You hesitate.

“I had some. The toast you ordered.”

“Good.” I smile faintly. “Did you like it?”

Your expression softens. That always works.

“Yeah. It was nice.”

I reach out then, thumb brushing lightly under your eye where the headache always seems to sit. You lean into it without realizing.

“Alright,” I murmur. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

I tap my console as we walk, keeping my voice low.

“Send up some blue pill,” I say. “The fast-acting kind.”

A beat. Then a laugh.

“You know those’re behavior—”

I cut in smoothly.

“Re-label them. Don’t get cute with me, Val.”

There’s a pause on the line.

“Lemme guess,” Valentino’s voice crackles back, sharp and amused. “Pain relief, huh? Since when you start playin’ nurse?”

I frown.

“Just preserving my investment, Val.”

“Tch.” I can practically see the eye roll. “You’re lucky I let you touch my supply.”

“Send it,” I reply pleasantly, and sever the call.

You don’t comment. You never do.

The elevator ride is quiet, comfortable. My hand rests at the small of your back, steering you without effort.

“How was your morning?” I ask. “Before the headache.”

You think about it.

“Calm. You weren’t up yet.”

“I had an early call,” I say. “Did you enjoy the quiet?”

You nod.

“Yeah. I like it when it’s just… peaceful.”

“Good,” I murmur. “You deserve that.”

The penthouse doors slide open, light warmer here, less harsh. Glass, chrome, excess. Valentino is leaning against the wall like a bad habit that refuses to quit. Sunglasses on indoors, cigarette burning down between his fingers, grin sharp and mean.

“Well look at this,” Val drawls. “Didn’t know I was runnin’ a pharmacy now.”

His eyes drag over you in a way I don’t care for.

“Well damn,” Val says. “Look at you. Got him on a leash now?”

You stiffen.

I don’t stop walking. I tighten my grip just enough to keep you moving with me.

“He’s not feeling well,” I say calmly. “Try not to be unpleasant for once.”

Val grins.

“Just sayin’. He didn’t used to need pills to get through the day.”

I glance at him, screens flickering faintly.

“Neither did you,” I reply. “Now look at you.”

His grin falters. He steps aside.

Inside my quarters, the case is already waiting on the table. Clean. Branded. Harmless-looking.

I open it, pop a tablet into my palm.

“Here,” I say. “Pain relief. It’ll take the edge off.”

You trust me enough not to question it. You take it without water.

I guide you to the couch, sit beside you, draw you in until your head rests against my shoulder. I feel the tension bleed out of you slowly, like a signal stabilizing.

“There,” I murmur. “Better?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Thanks, Vox.”

“Always.”

I smile faintly.

“Thought we could go out to dinner tonight,” I add. “I’ll send something up for you to wear.”

I stay with you until your breathing evens out, until the headache dulls into nothing. Then I ease you down, tuck a blanket over you, and stand.

“I’ll be downstairs,” I tell you softly. “Rest.”

You smile at me, sleepy and content.

I leave before you can say anything else.