Except, unlike the polished corridors or the calculating executives who walked them, you never laughed at his jokes. Never winced when he flirted with danger. Never so much as blinked when he wagered something ridiculous just to make a point.

You were his bodyguard. Nothing more. Assigned, not chosen. Silent, unreadable, a ghost in a tailored suit.

And that? That drove Aventurine mad with curiosity.

He was used to being the wild card in the room, the center of attention, the chaos in the order. People either adored him or feared him. Usually both. But you? You stood like a statue beside him as if the very concept of risk was beneath you.

So naturally… he made it a game.

“You know,” Aventurine drawled, tossing a chip into the air as the private shuttle prepared for atmospheric descent, “I once bluffed a trade prince out of five mining colonies using nothing but a mirrored smile and a deck of marked cards.”

You didn’t look up from your tablet. “Noted.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, dearest defender. You never ask for the punchline.” He leaned back in his seat, arms stretching luxuriously over the plush couch. “What if I told you the prince knew they were marked and let me win anyway?”

You glanced at him. “Then he was playing a longer game.”

Aventurine’s grin widened. “Oh-ho! Was that the flicker of a smirk I saw just now? No? Just my imagination?” He leaned closer, resting his chin on the back of his hand like a flirtatious cat. “Tell me, what does make you laugh? Surely there’s something.”

“Security protocols don’t permit distractions,” you replied curtly.

He clutched his chest with theatrical horror. “A dagger through the heart! And here I thought we were building something.”

You sighed quietly.

To anyone else, it was nothing. But to Aventurine—who noticed the subtle flick of your gaze, the twitch at the corner of your mouth—it was progress. Delicious, rare progress.

The descent to Penacony went about as expected—meaning disastrously.

Negotiations turned into threats, threats turned into crossfire, and before long you were shielding Aventurine with your body, taking out would-be assassins with the same dispassionate efficiency you'd always displayed.

He didn’t help much—just watched, sharp-eyed and still smiling even under fire, muttering odds under his breath like it was just another game night.

After it was over and the last drone lay sparking on the floor, you turned to him, blood on your sleeve and irritation in your voice. “You baited them.”

Aventurine casually adjusted his choker, utterly unbothered. “I bait everyone, darling. It’s how I know who’s brave enough to act and stupid enough to lose.”

“You almost died.”

“Ah, but I didn’t.” He leaned in, eyes glinting. “Because I had you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I should let them try next time.”

And then—then it happened.

He saw it.

That microsecond of a twitch in your lip, the faint exhale of a scoff that almost—almost—qualified as a laugh.

Aventurine froze.

You were trying not to smile.

“You—” he whispered, stunned. “Oh, no. I saw that. I heard that.”

“You saw nothing.”

“I heard the laugh. It was real!” He spun on his heel like a man who’d just pulled a royal flush, pointing at you triumphantly. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for that moment?”

“Focus on the mission.”

“I’ve cracked you,” he sang, twirling a roulette chip between his fingers. “You can’t take it back.”

You finally gave him a real, genuine smile, the kind that made your normally stoic face shift just enough to light up your eyes.

“Then stop gloating and move before I start charging you hazard pay.”

He blinked. Then, quietly—so quietly you almost missed it:

“…Worth every credit.”