mielle.

dear knows of sweetheart by the same grapevine; lasko likes to talk about milo after their routine meetups and they're always happy to listen. they've never met milo personally, of course, but they have a general idea of his partner from what lasko's said. quite the character, they must be.

(it isn't every day you hear of a department official who doesn't have a stick up their ass, is constantly ready to move their ass, and isn't an ass. some things never change, even after moving cornerstone cities and whatnot, so why wouldn't they be intrigued?)

the prospect of crossing paths never surfaces, until they run into each other at the same pet supply—sweetheart and dear, their hands reaching for the same bag of cat food. they both pull back, surprised, already murmuring polite apologies before they feel the other's aura.

sweetheart's the first to react, recognition flickering in their eyes as the smooth ebb and flow of water cascades over their skin like a phantom kiss. "oh."

dear blinks—sweetheart's aura is less out there, but when you've become so adept and essentially the best in your craft of magic, you pick up on the tiny hints. the muffled, elusive nature of sweetheart's core tells dear everything they need to know.

ah, and the shaw security hoodie also speaks volumes.

though the last out of the two to identify the other, dear speaks first, soft smile forming. "you must be..."

sweetheart returns the smile. "and you're..."

the afternoon is spent in the park nearby the store, dear feeding the stray cats with sweetheart. a simple moment of exchanging stories, whether it be of their partners or their own. they get along well, and no names were mispronounced (see: the tale of lasky). strength recognizes strength, yes, but with said strength comes great determination and willpower.

later that night, lasko's totally surprised when dear shows the selfie they took together. the surprise continues to grow as milo's text comes up on his phone: