Rhys sat down across from me and something was immediately off.
Not in a bad way, exactly. More like he was working harder than usual at looking normal, like there was something happening just under the surface that he was keeping a lid on.
His jaw was set. His shoulders weren't quite relaxed. He had the look of someone coming out of a conversation that had taken more out of him than he wanted to show.
Long meeting. Probably a stressful one. That's all that is.
"Are you okay?" I asked anyway.
He studied me for a second, and I mean actually studied me, like the question had more layers to it than I'd intended.
"Are you asking out of habit," he said, "or because you're actually concerned?"
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
The question caught me somewhere I hadn't expected, and for a second the room felt quieter than it had a moment ago. He was just looking at me.
He's tense. He looks like he's holding something in. Anyone would ask. That's basic human decency, not whatever that look is suggesting.
"I'm asking," I said, "because you don't look okay."
He didn't answer right away.
His gaze stayed on me, steady, a little too focused. Not uncomfortable exactly, but… deliberate. Like he was deciding something and hadn't finished yet.
"You're doing it again," I said.
"Doing what?"
"Staring."
"I'm looking at you," he said.
"You're not just looking at me, Rhys. That's not the same thing."
"It is from where I'm sitting."
I shifted slightly in my chair. "Is there something you want to say, or—"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"I'm not the one staring—" I stopped, exhaled, and tried again. "Look, you look like you're holding something in. I'm asking about that. It's not complicated."
His gaze softened just slightly at that. "It's a little complicated," he said.
"Then simplify it."
That got the smallest shift in his expression, like he almost smiled and then thought better of it.
"You make that sound easy."
I shrugged. "It usually is."
"For you, maybe."
I hesitated, then leaned back a little, giving him space. "Okay," I said. "You don't have to explain anything if you don't want to. I just—noticed."
"I know," he said, and he was still looking at me.
"Still doing it," I muttered.
"Yeah."
"…Why?"
His mouth curved slightly, but there was something restrained about it, like he wasn't letting it go any further.
"You notice everything, don't you," he said.
I let out a quiet breath, already feeling like I was losing whatever structure this conversation was supposed to have.
"You're doing this on purpose," I said.
"Yes," he admitted.
"At least you admit it."
"I try to be honest where I can."
I stared back at him for a second. "You're impossible to have a normal conversation with right now."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Winter." The corner of his mouth curved into a smile. "Um, I'm fine. Just had a meeting I didn't enjoy. Too many questions, not enough answers."
"I can relate to that actually," I said. "Which is part of why I'm here."
I opened the folder and slid the secondary filing across the table. "I found this last night. It's older than my family's title by about two decades. Same parcel, different name. I don't recognize it, and I can't place it in anything else I've pulled from the county records."
He looked down at it. His jaw shifted slightly. His eyes moved across the page and then stopped. He had it back in place within two seconds. But I'd been watching.
"Do you know that name?" I asked.
"It's from old pack records." He looked up. "Where exactly did you find this filing?"
I told him. The database, the secondary archive index, and the specific search terms I'd used. He listened without interrupting, which I was starting to understand was just how he was. He didn't speak when he didn't need to.
When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.
I leaned forward. "Look, I'm going to be direct with you because I'm tired of going in circles. I have a legal claim to that land. I'm not here to cause problems, and I'm not here to pick a fight with a pack over a piece of property."
He nodded. "I know."
"Good. But I'm also not going to walk away from a legitimate title just because the situation is complicated. If there are things about that property I need to understand before I make any decisions, I'd like to know what they are. I'm willing to listen. I'm willing to be reasonable. But I need something to work with."
He looked at me for a long moment. Long enough that I almost said something else just to fill it, which would have been a mistake.
"I'll show you the property tomorrow morning," he said. "Properly. Not just the boundary markers."
"And you'll actually tell me things this time?"
"Some things."
I looked at him. "That's not very reassuring."
"No," he said, and stood up. "It isn't."
He held the door open, and I gathered my folder and went out first into the hallway.
The side table was not there a second ago. I'm almost sure of it.
My hip caught the edge, and the vase tipped hard enough that I didn't even think—I just grabbed it mid-drop, set it back in place, and kept walking like that hadn't happened.
It was fine. Nothing broke. No one needed to acknowledge it.
I had made it three steps before he said, "Again?"
I stopped and turned back. He was still in the doorway, watching me. For the past twenty minutes, he'd been holding this careful, controlled expression like he didn't react to anything. It slipped just enough now to show what was underneath.
Amusement. And he wasn't trying very hard to hide it.
I folded my arms. "The table wasn't there earlier."
"Right." He nodded once, like he was taking that seriously. "It moved."
"It did, actually."
"I can tell," he went on, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. "What naughty furniture."
I exhaled, already feeling the heat creep up again, which was annoying because I wasn't even embarrassed. I just misjudged the distance. That was it.
"It's a narrow hallway," I said. "Bad placement."
"Mm." His gaze flicked briefly to the very reasonable amount of room in the hallway, then back to me. "We'll have it moved."
"You're enjoying this." I narrowed my eyes. "I'm not clumsy. I'm spatially selective."
He looked at me like I'd just done something genuinely endearing and he wasn't sure what to do with that information, and the combination of that look and that realization hit my face with absolutely no warning.
"How adorable," he suddenly said.
I could feel myself going red.
"Spatially selective," he repeated.
"Yes," I said, with as much dignity as I could pull together, which was not a lot. "Well, goodbye, Rhys."