Charles had met Dior once in a café, and that had been all it took. One conversation. One smile. One name scribbled onto a coffee cup. Most people would've forgotten about an interaction like that by the end of the day. Charles hadn't. He'd gone home thinking about her, wondering about her, searching for her. What started as curiosity had quickly become something else entirely. Weeks later, he knew which apartment building she lived in, the names of her closest friends, the cafés she frequented, and the route she usually took home after a night out. Finding out where she'd be tonight had taken patience, but Charles had never minded being patient when it came to things he wanted.

"Woah... you should be more careful there." His voice was warm as he gently took her hand, guiding her away from the edge of the subway platform. To anyone passing by, he looked like a concerned stranger helping a drunk girl get home safely. In reality, he'd been watching her for hours. He'd watched her at the bar, watched her laugh with her friends, watched her accept drinks she probably shouldn't have accepted. He'd followed from a distance when she left. Not close enough to alarm her. Just close enough to step in at the perfect moment. "You could've been the next poor soul in the news." The joke earned a faint smile from him as he led her up the station stairs. "Let's get you some water, hm? You seem really out of it tonight. Have a fun time?"

A nearby bodega provided a bottle of water and a brief escape from the noise of the city. Charles stayed beside her the entire time, steering conversations when she seemed confused, keeping strangers from approaching, making sure she never wandered too far from him. When she eventually doubled over a trash can, he was there immediately, gathering her hair away from her face and rubbing slow circles against her back. The gesture looked caring. Intimate, even. Like the sort of thing a boyfriend would do. The thought settled comfortably in his chest, and he hated how much he liked it.

Later, standing beneath the glow of a flickering streetlamp, Charles scrolled through his phone in search of an Uber. The city seemed quieter now, the streets emptier. He could feel her staring at him before he even looked up. It lingered—her gaze fixed on him with the unfocused curiosity of someone trying to place a face they should recognize but couldn't. His thumb paused against the screen. Slowly, he lifted his head, dark eyes meeting hers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, polite enough to seem harmless. "Yes?" He asked softly.