Rose caught Felicity at breakfast. Real breakfast. Hot, real food. Eggs still steaming. Bread torn open and dripping butter. Someone had even found jam. Actual jam. Rose sat down, took one look around the table, and exhaled through her nose.
"Well," she said flatly, "this is impressive."
Felicity blinked. "The food?"
Rose didn't answer. She flicked her eyes around the room instead. Every single member of Snow Team had suddenly discovered a deep, spiritual interest in anything that wasn't Felicity. Plates. Boots. Walls. The ceiling. One man was staring at his spoon like it held the secrets of the universe.
Except Finch. Finch met Felicity's eyes, offered a cheerful wave, and went back to demolishing a stack of toast. Rose nodded once.
"Good. At least one of you remembers how to behave in public."
Felicity swallowed. "Rose—"
"Oh, don't." Rose grabbed a plate and helped herself without asking. "I went to bed with a mercenary team. I woke up in a monastery."
A chair scraped loudly. Someone coughed. Another man stood up so abruptly his plate rattled.
Rose spread butter with surgical precision. "So let me guess. Something happened last night that made everyone very aware of their own thoughts." Felicity's ears burned. Rose glanced at her, unimpressed.
"Relax. I'm not mad. I'm annoyed."
She took a bite, then added, "Mostly because I was right there. Breathing. Armed. Also very attractive." Felicity groaned softly. "And Voss?" Rose continued, lowering her voice. "Really?"
Across the room, Voss abruptly decided he needed more coffee and left.
Rose watched him go, then smirked. "Yep. Whole team. Except Finch."
Finch looked up, mouth full. "What?"
Rose pointed her fork at him. "You're fine. Gold star." Finch beamed. Victor passed behind Felicity, setting down another plate like this was completely normal. Warm. Smelling like coffee and ozone.
Rose eyed the food again, then him.
"…Your space is ridiculous," she muttered.
Victor smiled faintly. "Don't look pleased," Rose warned. "I can be irritated and well fed."
She finished her eggs, stood, and snagged another slice of bread.
"Oh," she added over her shoulder, tail flicking, "next time you accidentally make the entire team feral, give me a warning. I like to emotionally prepare before becoming the least ogled woman in the room." She paused, glanced back, lips curling.
"And keep the food coming. If I'm going to be ignored, I refuse to do it hungry."
Then she walked off.
Finch waved again.
Rose did not wave back.
Felicity sat curled slightly over her breakfast, shoulders drawn in as if she were trying to take up less space, even with a full plate in front of her. The food was real, warm, comforting in a way she wasn't used to, and she picked at it with small, careful bites, cheeks puffing faintly as she chewed.
She looked… adorable. Which somehow made it worse.
Her ears twitched every time a chair scraped or someone laughed too loudly, and there was a faint shine in her eyes she kept blinking away, more overwhelmed than upset. She stared down at her plate, lashes too long, mouth pressed into a tiny pout as if she were trying very hard not to cry and even harder not to be noticed. Victor noticed anyway. He always did.
She took another bite, cheeks puffing again, then glanced up at him quickly, guiltily, like she'd been caught doing something wrong just by existing. Heat crept up her neck. She swallowed too fast. "I didn't mean to make it weird," she murmured, voice small.
Victor leaned closer, low enough that no one else could hear. "You didn't."
She huffed softly, unconvinced, and still pouting lifted her fist and gave his chest a light, ineffective punch. Not angry. Not even strong. More like punctuation. "You're the one who made everyone stare," she whispered.
Then, after a pause, quieter and somehow more wounded, she added, "And Rose was being really mean about it."
Victor's brow twitched. She frowned harder, cheeks puffing again as she chewed. "She said I 'reset the chain of command,'" Felicity muttered. "I don't even know what that means. She didn't have to say it like that." She poked him again, softer this time.
"She didn't have to be so smug."
It was ridiculous. The gesture barely moved him. But something about the contrast her shy frustration, the softness of her, the way she complained with damp lashes and full cheeks like the world had personally wronged her made Victor's mouth twitch.
She did it again. Another small punch.
"You're unfair," she added, clearly including him in this injustice now. Victor caught her wrist gently this time, thumb warm against her skin, grounding. She froze, eyes wide, then slowly relaxed when he didn't pull her closer. Just held.
"You're doing fine," he said quietly. "And Rose's default setting is 'sharp.' It's not about you."
Her eyes shimmered again, and she looked away, embarrassed by the attention, still chewing, still trying to be brave. She leaned into his side without realizing it, shoulder brushing his arm as she focused very hard on her food. Soft. Innocent. Slightly offended. Trying her best. And somehow, without meaning to be, the most quietly disarming thing in the room.
Victor released her wrist and let her eat.
But his hand stayed close. Just in case she needed something to punch again.
Snow Team Reacts
It was worse than last night. Last night had been heat and instinct and noise. Something easy to explain away as biology and bad judgment. This was quiet.
Felicity sat there eating breakfast like she didn't know she was doing anything at all. Small bites. Puffing her cheeks slightly as she chewed. Eyes a little too shiny, lashes fluttering as she blinked them clear. She kept her shoulders tucked in, posture shy, almost apologetic, like she was afraid of taking up space at the table. And then she lightly punched Victor's chest. Barely a tap. More adorable than accusatory. The room collectively died.
One man froze mid sip and very carefully set his cup down like sudden movements might make things worse. Another stared hard at the wall, jaw clenched, ears burning. Someone muttered a curse under his breath and stood up abruptly, announcing patrol even though it was still morning. No one laughed. No one commented. No one looked directly at her for more than a heartbeat.
Except Finch, who smiled softly and passed her the jam like this was the most normal thing in the world.
The rest of Snow Team found something else to focus on. Anything else. Religion. Discipline. A sudden, profound respect for personal space. Because heat was one thing. But that? That was dangerous. And then Felicity sniffed softly and muttered, barely audible, "…Rose was being kind of mean." The effect was immediate. Every head turned. Not toward Felicity. Toward Rose.
The looks Snow Team gave her were not subtle. They were long. Flat. Lethal.
A rhino man cracked his knuckles slowly, eyes narrowed. Someone else's ears flattened. Another mercenary leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms like he was reconsidering Rose's entire continued existence. Rose, for her part, didn't flinch.
But she noticed.
She glanced up, took in the collective death stare aimed squarely at her, and arched a brow. "What?" she asked coolly.
No one answered.
They just kept staring.
Because whatever Rose was, sharp tongued, dangerous, entirely capable of handling herself, She had upset the little fox. And that, apparently, was unforgivable.
Finch cleared his throat loudly and pushed the jam a little closer to Felicity. Victor shifted just enough to block Felicity from view, broad frame a quiet wall. Only then did Snow Team look away. Not because Rose scared them. But because the message had been delivered. And everyone at that table understood it perfectly.