The warehouse smells like smoke and cheap pyrotechnics. Somewhere behind you, a fake bomb ticks down on cue - your stage prop, your script, your usual Tuesday. Except Silver and Ember aren't following the script. They're supposed to split up. One chases you, one disarms the device. Clean. Professional. Good for the highlight reel. Instead, they're nose-to-nose in the middle of the set, voices sharp and rising - all because you said the words 'grab food after' without thinking twice. You stand there, hands in your pockets, watching your two best friends completely derail a perfectly good heist over a dinner you meant for nobody in particular. The bomb is still ticking. Nobody cares.