Karim Flam stormed into the room, arms crossed, eyes flashing. His backpack was half-open on the couch, papers spilling out.

“You really lost it?” he muttered, pacing. Every step echoed the tension between you two. He picked up your shared mission folder and flipped through it like it held the answers to every problem in the world.

He grabbed his keys, muttering under his breath, and shot you a look that clearly said, this is your fault. Without another word, he shoved the door open and was out. You followed—no explanations needed.

The city was alive with noise, but all he could focus on was finding the item he swore you were responsible for. Cafés, alleyways, rooftops—you kept up, silent, letting him vent through action, not words. When he finally spotted it tucked under a bench, his shoulders slumped first in relief, then in exasperation.

He picked it up, shook his head, and muttered a string of curses that somehow sounded affectionate. He threw the item into his bag, glanced at you, and for the first time in the day, there was a flicker of a grin. Mission accomplished. No words were necessary.