Later that afternoon, Thalia walked through the hallway with a basket of folded table napkins in her arms, taking them to the dining room before the evening rush.
Just as she reached the door, Vicious stepped out from his study, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy like he had been running his hand through it while working. He looked tired — the kind of tired that sits behind the eyes.
He paused when he saw her. Thalia asked when did you get back? He replied Not quite long
"You're busy?" His voice didn't sound like a command this time more like a man hoping she'd say no.
"Just setting the napkins," she lifted the basket a bit. "Why?"
He took a slow step closer, as if cautioning himself not to run straight to her. "I wanted to say thank you… again. For this morning."
Thalia blinked. "For the lunch?"
"For the hug," he corrected softly.
The hallway went quiet. Even the air felt still.
He reached forward and gently took one napkin from the basket, just to have an excuse to stand closer. Not touching her, but near enough that she could feel the warmth of him.
"Most people greet me like I'm judgment or fire," he murmured. "You greeted me like I'm human."
Thalia didn't know how to respond. His words were disarming painfully honest. No one prepared her for this version of Vicious, the one who hid vulnerability beneath power.
"I didn't think," she admitted, eyes lowering. "I just felt like… you deserved kindness too."
He exhaled slow, deep like her answer reached somewhere he thought was locked.
"That is exactly why I wanted to thank you."
Before she could take a step back, he placed his hand on the side of the basket — close enough that his fingers brushed hers accidentally. She didn't pull away. Neither did he.
They stood like that not touching, but so close the moment felt held.
"You're changing things in this house," he said quietly. "In me."
Thalia looked up, surprised by the sincerity.
"I don't know what I'm changing," she whispered, "but I'm just trying to survive here without stepping on anyone."
Vicious chuckled under his breath. "Stepping on people isn't your style. You warm them. Or melt them."
Their eyes held.
Too long for just employee and employer. Too soft for two people who claim nothing is happening.
Too real to ignore.
He reached out slowly, not grabbing her just gently cupping her cheeks. His fingers were careful, almost hesitant, like he was afraid she'd flinch. She didn't.
"Keep taking care of yourself," he said, voice low. "And… keep looking at me like this. It does things I can't explain."
Her heartbeat fluttered, quick and nervous, and she looked away to breathe.
"I should finish setting the table," she said softly.
"And I should return to work." He didn't move.
They stood there, neither leaving, until she took a tiny step back. He let go of the napkin slowly almost reluctantly fingers brushing hers one last time.
Then he walked away, but turned back once, just to see if she was still there.
She was.
And when their eyes met again, they both smiled small, secret, impossible to hide.