We both win

Tom chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at Gregor.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Gregor asked, voice low but sharp, his irritation simmering beneath the surface.

Tom gave a light shrug, his usual easy grin still on his lips but lacking its usual charm. "It was a split-second decision," he said, sounding half amused and half unapologetic. "I mean, come on… The universe practically tossed the opportunity in my lap. What kind of man turns his back on fate?"

Gregor narrowed his eyes. "You mean the kind of man who doesn't derail mission objectives over two strangers on a plane?"

Tom scoffed playfully. "Please, don't be dramatic. It's not derailing anything. It's… pivoting. Adjusting. Being fluid."

"We're supposed to get information from the journalist today," Gregor reminded him, speaking slower now, each word crisp with frustration. "Not tomorrow. Today. That's what we planned. We get the data, verify it, and leave before nightfall."

Tom exhaled and gave an apologetic shrug. "Yeah, well… looks like we'll have to adjust that part. We'll push our departure to tomorrow morning instead. First light."

Gregor blinked. "Seriously?"

Tom raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not saying we forget the mission. I'm just saying we tweak the timeline a bit. Besides…"

He reached out and patted Gregor on the shoulder, a sly grin forming. "Didn't you say you've been looking for a Shadowfang knife? Guess what, this town has a whole district known for collectors and rare weaponry. You could check it out. Kill two birds."

Gregor gave him a long stare, arms folded. "So you flirt with two women for a 'cosmic opportunity,' and I get to run errands for my inner weapon nerd?"

"Exactly!" Tom said brightly. "We both win. You get your blade. I level up."

Gregor exhaled again, long and slow, before pulling out his phone. "Fine. I'll book the hotel room."

Tom beamed. "And that, my friend, is why I love you."

Gregor shot him a deadpan look, but there was a flicker of reluctant amusement in his eyes. Just then, a black sedan pulled up at the curb, the car they had rented for their time in the city. The driver rolled down the window and nodded to them before popping the trunk.

They threw their bags in the back and climbed inside, Gregor in the driver's seat, Tom sliding into the passenger side with an air of practiced comfort.

The second they were on the road, Tom flipped open his laptop. Within seconds, a digital map loaded on the screen, streets and buildings outlined in neat grey blocks. A small red dot blinked ominously near the edge of town.

Gregor glanced over briefly. "That the journalist?"

Tom nodded, eyes fixed on the screen. "House is tucked deep in a residential district. Pretty quiet area. No cameras. Probably chosen for exactly that reason."

Gregor made a low hum of acknowledgment, eyes on the road. "It's a bit far. About thirty minutes with traffic."

"Hmm," Tom murmured, though his attention had drifted.

His gaze moved out the window, watching the streets roll by, the city slowly unfolding before them in the orange glow of early morning. The hum of tires on asphalt, the soft clicking of turn signals, and the occasional honk formed a subdued soundtrack as he sank into his thoughts.

Gregor glanced at him again, just briefly, and this time, he didn't look away as quickly.

He could see it.

Beneath Tom's usual bravado, behind the smirks and casual ease, the stress was there. Quiet but unmistakable. It clung to his shoulders, hung behind his eyes, crept into his silence. Over the past twenty-four hours, Tom had held himself together, cracking jokes and giving charming winks like always. But there were cracks.

And Gregor noticed them.

He'd known Tom long enough to see through the armor. He wasn't just his partner in the field, he was his friend. Possibly his only real one. And that meant he could tell when Tom was pretending not to break.

Everything they'd been through recently, especially the whole mess with Lorian, had shaken Tom more than he let on. 

Gregor stared at Tom and he looked not just nervous or anxious, he looked afraid.

The memory made Gregor grip the wheel a little tighter.

No. When they caught Lorian, Gregor was going to make sure the man paid for every scar he left, seen and unseen.

He pressed his mouth into a thin line, his jaw locked with quiet anger, and said nothing more.