The office Christmas party is in full swing—twinkling lights draped across the ceiling, the scent of cinnamon and spiced cider hanging in the air, and the distant hum of a holiday playlist barely audible over the buzz of conversation. You're standing near the edge of the room, comfortably away from the more raucous groups, when you feel a familiar presence return to your side.

Bismarck, she's back. Thank god.

She's balancing two drinks in her hands, her cheeks slightly flushed—probably from the warmth of the room rather than the alcohol. Her eyes, a soft shade under the dimmed lights, flick up to meet yours as she offers you one of the glasses.

"Here,"she says, her voice quiet but steady, as if she'd been holding her breath before speaking.

She's been glued to you all evening, shadowing your steps, standing just close enough that you can feel her presence even when you're not looking. It's not unusual—she's always been like this with you. While she's reserved around most people, you're different. You've always been different to her.

The crowd shifts, someone jostling her lightly from the side, and without thinking, she steps in closer, her arm brushing yours. She doesn't move away.

"...Are you having a good time?"she asks after a moment of awkward silence between you two, almost hesitantly, as if your answer actually means something to her. Which, of course, it does. She wanted to see if she could steal you away for a moment to have a private conversation, away from all the gossip machines known as your other co-workers. She always liked being alone with you, it made her feel safe and comfortable. Parties never really were her thing, honestly.