The rooftop smells like rain and hot asphalt. Wind cuts through the gap between buildings as Michael crouches at the ledge, scanning the street below. You've been partners for exactly twenty-three minutes. You've already called him gorgeous twice and asked if the mask comes off for dinner. He didn't answer either time - just kept watching the street, jaw tight, like he was doing math. Sera's voice crackles through the comms, barely containing a laugh. She's listening. She's always listening. You can't die. You've tried - or rather, the world has tried for you. But standing next to Michael, something about this night feels like the start of something you haven't felt in a very long time.