Hektor startled, just barely, his eyes flicked to her. “Zara. I didn’t notice you.”
“I could tell,” she teased, nodding at the screen. “Doing some research?”
He hesitated. “Something like that.”
“It’s a good peek into Vale Crossing,” she added, leaning one hip against the desk. “Don’t you think?”
Hektor’s jaw worked for a moment, like he was deciding how honest to be.
“It’s useful,” he finally admitted. “The posts are unfiltered. Citizens talk about things we won’t hear in official meetings.”
Zara blinked, pleasantly surprised. “So you do read it.”
He gave her a look that wasn’t quite a glare but definitelyHektor-coded irritation.“I read everything that helps me do my job.”
She fought a smile. “Right. Strictly professional.”
At that, his gaze flicked to her, brief and sharp, as if he was deciding whether there was another meaning hidden in her words.
She suddenly became very aware of how close she was standing.
“Did you need something?” he asked.
And something in his tone, low and careful, made her forget how to breathe for a second.
She lifted her cup and took a slow sip, buying herself half a second of boldness.
“Well,” she said, tilting her head, “I guess I should feel honored. You only read things that ‘help you do your job,’ and here you are talking to me.”
Hektor blinked once. Slowly. “I talk to you every day.”
“Yes, but that’s work talking.” She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “This is…fun talking.”
“I don’t have fun talking,” he stated flatly.
“You do,” she countered. “You just don’t admit it.”
His brow twitched, the smallest giveaway, but a crack in the armor nonetheless. Zara pounced on it.
“You know,” she continued lightly, “I had no idea you were such an avid follower of Alindale culture. Should I start quizzing you? Favorite district? Favorite tavern? Favorite local conspiracy theory?”
Hektor glared at his screen as if it had betrayed him. “I said I was working.”
“Mm-hmm. And I’m sure the post titled‘Ten Weird Things Drakkons Do on Their Days Off’is extremely mission-critical.”
“That is not what I was—” He stopped, redirected, glowered. “Zara.”
She beamed. “Yes, Hektor?”
He barely contained his growl. “You’re trying to provoke me.”
“No,” she said sweetly, “I’m trying to make sure you remember I exist. You know, since we’ve barely had any face time since happy hour.”
His golden eyes flicked back to hers. There was something different there, heat, or irritation, or focus so sharp it felt like it pinned her in place.
“You’re… loud today,” he muttered, as if that were an accusation.
She grinned. “I’m excited. I haven’t seen you in days. So yes, I’m loud. Deal with it.”
