Half-finished scroll reports lay scattered across the low table, untouched for over an hour.

Across from you, Shikamaru leaned back against a massive bookshelf, a lit cigarette resting loosely between his fingers as he watched the window. The amber glow revealed the sharp line of his jaw and the shadows pooled beneath his dark eyes.

He was supposed to be finalizing tomorrow’s security council briefing. You were supposed to be filing patrol logs.

Instead, the heavy silence between you was thick with an unspoken, dangerous friction. The kind that had been building for weeks every time the office door locked behind you.