Assessment.
Possibly respect.
Stone comes up beside me.
“Good to have him back,” he says.
“Yes.”
We don’t say anything else.
***
Cal's lab is warm and smells like coffee and equipment that runs all day. The afternoon session is half coursework, half the assessments Cal runs so quietly you barely notice until you catch him writing something down.
Leo sits across from me with a book open, not turning the page.
He’s watching RJ.
RJ is actually working — head down, moving through it one word at a time, slow and deliberate, like he’s relearning how to stay.
Jake finished ten minutes ago. He hasn’t moved. Just waits, easy, like he knows Cal will get to him when Cal gets to him.
Jim’s already ahead. Pages turned. Quiet. Cal hasn’t said anything about it. He never does.
Torres looks like he’s working. I can’t tell if he is.
RJ looks up and catches Leo watching him. Leo looks immediately back at his coursework. RJ looks at me.
I look at my coursework.
A beat.
RJ goes back to his page.
Cal makes a small note. Says nothing.
The door opens.
Gavin comes in the way Gavin comes into rooms — without announcement, without particular hurry, taking in the table in one sweep before he speaks.
"New residents incoming," he says. "Three of them. Some current non-Red House residents will be moving to accommodate." He looks at the table. At Leo specifically. "Adjustments will be communicated individually."
Leo puts his pen down. "I'm going to miss you," he says.
Gavin looks at him.
"The personal touch," Leo says. "The warmth you bring to these announcements."
Gavin looks at Leo for one moment longer than necessary. Then he leaves.
Nobody is concerned. Fated mates don't get separated — the system learned that the hard way and documented it thoroughly. Whatever moving means, it doesn't mean that.
Torres looks up from his coursework for the first time. "He loves us," he says quietly.
Jake makes a sound that might be a laugh.
Cal writes something down and does not comment.
