Vixen sat curled in her ergonomic chair, one slender leg crossed neatly over the other. Her arms — soft but toned — rested just beneath the curve of her chest, folded tightly like she was holding herself together.
The apartment was mostly quiet, except for the soft buzzing sound of her laptop and the low, steady chatter of Shadow's live stream still running in the background.
There wasn't much to do tonight.
Patrol was slow.
Nothing but false alarms and some drunk guy trying to challenge a bus to a fistfight.
Naturally, she ended up spending the entire evening glued to Shadow's stream.
Her brow was knit now, lips tugged down slightly.
Not the usual petty jealousy she'd been pulling faces over all night.
This time, it was something heavier.
A bead of sweat trailed slowly down her forehead.
She lowered her head as the soft rustle of her hair brushed over her shoulders.
"I know he should be fine!"
She exhaled sharply through her nose.
"He really should. But…"
