His eyes then raked over her in a way that seemed to make time slow - not focusing on any one part of her, but taking in all of her at once, as if seeing her for the first time in newfound light.

The weight of his gaze felt like sunlight on water, sending ripples through her carefully maintained composure. Their discussion of legal strategy faded to white noise as something inevitable built between them.

She tried to redirect her focus to the files, but years of legal training crumbled under the gravity of his attention… the carefully constructed walls between professional and personal began to dissolve, leaving her wonderfully defenseless against the image of him emptying his inventory.

Her mind flooded with everything that had shifted between them since that night at the hospital - his vulnerability in the sterile corridor, her vulnerability within hers… the strength in his devotion, the way he was looking at her as if she was something precious and rare. Each memory added another layer to the moment, an accretion of tension that made her fingertips tingle with awareness.

She needed to say something. Anything.

“The East Park photos,” she said softly, her voice not quite steady. “That’s why we’re… that’s why you’re here.?.”

It sounded like a question, though she hadn’t meant it to be.

“Is it?” His voice was low, certain. Not moving away.

She forced herself to meet his eyes - a mistake. His gaze was steady and all over her in a single instant, the kind of attention that should have been uncomfortable, like standing too close to something burning. But he wasn’t uncomfortable at all. He was perfectly still, perfectly calm, like he’d found exactly where he wanted to be.