Mark

“Who really are you, Damian?” she murmured under her breath.

By the time Quinn stepped out of the estate, the night had settled into a heavy, unmoving quiet. The kind that made everything feel slower, thicker, like the world itself was holding its breath. Her phone buzzed just as she reached her car. She didn’t need to check.

“Hale. Office now.”

The line went dead.

Quinn exhaled slowly, staring at the screen for half a second before slipping it back into her pocket. No explanation, no delay. Just another order from her boss, Mark.

“You’re still here.” She didn’t turn as she said it, but she could hear him shift behind her.

“Yeah,” Damian admitted. “I wasn’t sure if I should leave or… stay or… yeah.”

Quinn finally looked at him, unimpressed. “What do you want?”

He hesitated, which already told her more than enough. Then, like he’d decided to just jump and deal with the fall later, “A job.”

She blinked once. "You’re serious?”

“I helped you,” he said quickly, stepping forward, words picking up speed as his nerves kicked in. “You were looking at the wrong thing, I pointed you to the right one, and if that pen turns out to be what we think it is, then I just gave you your cause of death.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly aware this wasn’t going well. “Look, I know how this sounds, but I can help. I see things. Patterns. Details people miss when they’re focused on the obvious.”

Quinn studied him, replaying the scene in her head. The pen. The residue. The fact that he had seen it before she did and it was annoying but useful.

She opened the car door.

“Get in.

The drive was quiet at first, the city slipping past in blurred lights and empty streets. Quinn kept her focus on the road, but the exhaustion was starting to settle in, slow and heavy, dragging at the edges of her concentration.

Beside her, Damian shifted, clearly fighting the silence.

“So… do I get a title, or is this more of a trial period situation-”

“No.”

“Right. Yeah. Makes sense.”

A beat passed before he spoke again, softer this time. “You didn’t miss it because you’re bad at your job.”

Quinn glanced at him briefly. “That's supposed to help?”

“A little,” he said. “You were looking for disruption. I look for what doesn’t belong.”

The building was nearly empty when they arrived, the fluorescent lights casting a dull glow across quiet hallways. Quinn didn’t slow as she walked in, Damian trailing just behind her now, noticeably less confident in a space that wasn’t his.

Mark was already waiting.

He stood near his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been there for hours. Early thirties, sharp eyes, the kind of presence that filled a room without needing to raise his voice. He looked like a man who didn’t tolerate mistakes.

“Hale,” he said, his gaze immediately shifting to Damian. “And who’s this?”

Quinn didn’t hesitate. “He found something.”

That was enough.

She placed the evidence bag on the desk and explained everything, her voice steady, precise, walking him through the sequence without missing a detail. By the time she finished, the room had gone quiet again.

Mark studied the pen for a long moment before looking at Damian.

“If this checks out,” he said slowly, “and the lab confirms your theory, we might have a place for you.”

Damian straightened slightly, relief flashing across his face before he tried to tone it down. “Right. Yeah. That... sounds good.”

They stepped out into the hallway again, the door closing behind them with a soft click that seemed louder than it should have been.

Damian exhaled, a grin slipping through despite everything. “Okay, that went better than expected.”

He watched her more carefully now. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

She opened her eyes, giving him a look. “You always this persistent?”

“Only when I’m right.”

There was a pause. Then, quieter, “You don’t have to hold everything together all the time.”

Something in his tone made her still. Quinn didn’t answer, but she didn’t move away either.

The elevator doors slid shut behind them, enclosing them in a dim, space that suddenly felt smaller than it should have been. Quinn leaned back against the wall, her composure still intact.

Damian stayed where he was at first, like he didn’t trust himself to move without making it awkward. “Tonight was…” he started, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, I don’t even have a word for that.”

Quinn let out a quiet breath. “You talk a lot when you’re nervous.”

“I’ve been told that.”

The elevator jolted suddenly, stopping between floors. Damian stumbled slightly, his hand catching her arm to steady himself.

“Oh my- Sorry-”

He didn’t pull away, and neither did she.

“Quinn…” he said, quieter now.

She turned toward him before she could think better of it.

The kiss wasn’t planned. It wasn’t careful. It was sudden, sharp, and charged with everything she had been holding back all night. Her hand found the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as their mouths met again, this time slower, deeper, the tension between them finally breaking.

Damian froze for half a second before responding, his hands finding her waist, unsure at first, then firmer as he pulled her closer without realizing it. His breath hitched when she pressed against him, the contact sending a visible jolt through him.

“Quinn...” he started, but the words disappeared as she kissed him again.

The moment deepened, heat building fast, too fast, his composure slipping completely now as he tried to keep up, one hand sliding up to her neck, the other tightening at her waist. There was nothing smooth about it, nothing practiced, just raw, unfiltered reaction, which somehow made it worse.

Quinn felt it and pulled back abruptly, her breath uneven now, her control snapping back into place just as quickly as it had slipped. “That was a mistake.”

Damian blinked, still trying to catch up. “Yeah. No. Definitely. Completely.”

Neither of them moved. Instead, they closed the distance with another passionate kiss, as Damian grabbed Quinn's waist and Quinn grabbing his...