Her heart skipped a beat. "Tarmek?—"
"The drawing is good," he said abruptly. "I'm keeping it."
Before she could respond, he turned and walked back towards the arena, leaving her standing in the glow of her newly functional lights with her pulse racing and her carefully constructed defenses starting to crack.
After that, she couldn't stop noticing as well. She noticed the way food appeared on her workspace when she'd been working too long without a break. Never with a note. Just there, like magic, exactly when her stomach started rumbling.
She noticed the way he materialized beside her whenever she left the arena after dark, walking her to her camper without asking permission or explaining himself. They didn't talk during these walks, but his presence was a warm weight at her side, solid and reassuring.
She noticed the way small things around the arena kept getting fixed before she even had a chance to report them. The loose step on the scaffolding she used for the mural. The flickering light in the hallway outside the storage room. The draft under the door of the break room where she often worked late.
She'd asked Sam about them once.
"Maintenance has been really on top of things lately," she said, trying to sound casual. "Did you guys hire someone new?"
Sam had given her a knowing look. "Nope. Same crew as always. Why do you ask?"
"No reason."
"Uh-huh." Sam's smile had been infuriating. "No reason at all."
The assigned seat incident happened during a team video session.
She hadn't meant to cause trouble—okay, she had absolutely meant to cause trouble, but in a fun way, not a disruptive way. The video room had theater-style seating, and she'd noticed that the players always sat in the exact same spots. Fen in the back left corner. Brogan in the front row, alone, with the other older players behind him. Rognar in the middle, surrounded by the younger players who looked up to him.
And Tarmek in the back right corner. Alone. With an empty seat on either side that no one ever, ever occupied.
She got there early and claimed his seat. The players trickled in slowly, chatting and joking, settling into their usual spots. She watched their faces as they noticed her, watched the ripple of surprise and amusement spread through the room. Fen caught her eye and mouthedoh my godwith obvious delight.
Then Tarmek walked in and stopped in the doorway. His gaze swept the room, found her, and narrowed.
She smiled sweetly. "Good morning."
"You're in my seat."
"I don't see your name on it."
"Everyone knows it's my seat."
"That seems like an assumption. Have you asked the seat how it feels about this arrangement? Maybe it's ready for a change. Maybe it's been waiting its whole seat-life for someone new to sit on it."
Fen made a choking sound.
Tarmek's jaw tightened. He stood there for a long moment, clearly wrestling with himself, and she braced for the explosion. The demand that she move. The cold dismissal she probably deserved. Instead, he walked to the seat beside her and sat down.
The room went dead silent.
"This is acceptable," he said, staring straight ahead at the blank screen. "We can share."
She blinked. "We can?"
"Unless you'd prefer I carry you to another seat myself."
The mental image that produced was not appropriate for a professional setting. She shifted in her stolen seat, suddenly very aware of how close he was, his shoulder nearly brushing hers. She could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"Sharing is good," she managed. "Sharing is fine."
"Good."
