Sharing a tent with Brigid while the cultists set up camp for the night, Cassian had already sprawled across the bedroll like he owned the entire place—boots half-kicked off, shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. Brigid parked herself in the corner with a book balanced on her knee, doing her absolute best to pretend he didn't exist.
Cassian glanced over. "You know, you always read the same way—like the book owes you money."
Brigid didn't look up. "Maybe it does. It certainly costs me peace whenever you're around."
Cassian snorted. "Rude. I bring joy, excitement, meaningful conversation—"
"You bring noise," she corrected.
"Well," he said, inching closer, "noise and charm."
She finally looked at him. "You're mistaking 'annoyance' for charm again."
Cassian just grinned and slid an arm around her waist, tugging her a bit closer. "Anyway… since we're parting ways tomorrow—"
