Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEA0YDDMKVG485N9BAHT5W9

The knock came three times, sharp and deliberate, the kind of knock that belonged to someone who'd stood outside deciding whether to leave. Rory undid the first deadbolt, then the second, and paused with her hand on the third when she saw him through the gap—platinum hair catching the hallway light, cane resting against his leg like an afterthought. "You've got some nerve," she said, but the bolt slid free anyway. Lucien stepped in without waiting for an invitation, the way he always did, scanning the flat's chaos of books and scrolls before his eyes settled back on her. "I would have called first, but you never answer when it's me." "That should've told you something." "It told me you were busy. Or angry. Possibly both." He set the cane against Ptolemy's scratching post, and the cat gave him a look of deep betrayal before slinking under the sofa. "Charming as always." Rory crossed her arms, hip against the doorframe, not moving to let him further in than the three feet of hallway he'd already claimed. "Three months, Lucien. Not a word." "I sent word." "You sent Marguerite. With a note. Like I was a job you were closing out." His jaw tightened, just barely, the amber eye flickering with something she used to be able to read easily and now couldn't. "I was in Avaros. My father doesn't exactly permit correspondence." "You could have told me that before you left. Instead of just—" She stopped herself, throat tight, angry at how quickly the old wound opened back up. "Instead of leaving me standing outside Silas' bar like an idiot, waiting for a car that wasn't coming." "I know." "That's it? You know?" "What would you have me say, Rory?" He took a step closer, and she caught the familiar scent of cedar and something faintly sulfuric underneath, demon blood that never quite masked itself no matter how good his tailor was. "That I panicked? That watching you nearly bleed out over a case that had nothing to do with you frightened me more than facing my father ever has?" "I didn't ask you to protect me." "No. You never do." His voice dropped, quieter now, less performance in it. "That's rather the problem." She held his gaze, refusing to look away first, though her pulse had picked up traitorously. "So what, you disappear because I got hurt on a job? That's not protection, Lucien. That's you making a decision for both of us and not telling me." "I'm aware of how it looks." "Then why are you here? Three months of silence and you just knock on my door like it's nothing?" He glanced past her, toward the cluttered kitchen table where a half-drunk cup of tea had gone cold beside an open case file, then back to her face. "Because Yu-Fei Cheung's restaurant had a break-in last night. Someone went through the delivery routes. Yours specifically." The anger in her chest didn't leave, but something colder slid in beside it. "Why would anyone care about my delivery routes?" "That's what I intend to find out. Which is why I'm here, and not sending Marguerite with a note." "Convenient." "I didn't say it was the only reason." His eyes didn't waver from hers, and for a moment the hallway felt smaller than it had any right to be. "I missed you. Insufferably. If that means anything at all." Rory's arms loosened slightly, though she didn't let them drop. "It doesn't fix three months." "No. It doesn't." He reached up, slow, and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, the gesture achingly familiar and unwelcome in how good it still felt. "But I'm here now. And someone's watching you, Rory, which means we don't exactly have the luxury of pretending I don't exist." "I was doing fine pretending." "Were you?" She didn't answer that, because the honest answer was written all over the cold tea and the file open to a page she hadn't been able to focus on for an hour before he'd knocked. "Fine," she said instead, stepping back to let him properly through the door. "Tell me about the break-in. But this—" she gestured between them, sharp and final "—we're not fixing this tonight." "Understood." He picked his cane back up, following her into the flat, careful to step over a stack of Eva's research notes on threshold wards. "Though for what it's worth, I don't intend to disappear again." "You said that last time." "I didn't say it last time. I simply left." He allowed himself a small, rueful smile. "Consider this an improvement." Rory swept the tea cup off the table, dumping it in the sink harder than necessary, using the motion to hide the way her mouth wanted to twitch upward despite everything. "Low bar." "I've always worked well beneath expectations." He settled into the chair across from where she usually sat, unbuttoning his suit jacket like he intended to stay a while. "Now. Tell me everything you remember about last night's deliveries. Who signed for what, who was at the door, anyone lingering who shouldn't have been." She sat across from him, pulling the case file closer, aware of his eyes on her in that way that made her want to simultaneously throw him out and ask him to stay. Neither feeling won. Both stayed, uneasy roommates in her chest, as she flipped to the first page and started talking.