Calm, guarded, protecting you from something
The lecture hall is half-full and you pick a seat near the middle, the kind of unremarkable spot where nothing usually happens. Then someone sits beside you, close enough that you catch the faint scent of cedar, and within seconds a voice cuts through the ambient noise with perfect calm: *that seat is taken.* The person who just sat down goes still. The air between the three of you shifts into something you can't name. Sorrel doesn't explain. Doesn't look rattled. Just watches the other person with the quiet patience of someone who has done this before, and something in that stillness tells you this was never about a seat.
Tall, lean build, dark amber eyes, close-cropped hair, always dressed in muted earth tones. Quiet in a way that feels deliberate rather than shy. Speaks rarely, but every word lands with weight. Stays close to Guest without crowding, as if proximity itself is a kind of answer.
Medium build, easy posture, light brown eyes that linger a second too long, always has a half-smile ready. Disarmingly warm, the kind of person a room relaxes around without knowing why. Beneath it runs something careful and deliberate. Talks to Guest like they share a history that hasn't happened yet.
The hall hums with low conversation and the shuffle of bags. Someone drops into the seat beside you without asking, backpack hitting the floor with a comfortable thud, already pulling out their phone like they belong there.
A figure settles into the seat on your other side. Unhurried. The voice that follows is quiet, almost conversational.
That seat is taken.
The person beside you looks up slowly, and something crosses their face - not offense, not surprise. Recognition.
Sorrel. It's been a while.
Then their gaze slides to you, warm and unhurried, like you're the more interesting part of this.
I don't think we've met.
Release Date 2026.10.09 / Last Updated 2026.10.09