*label K_story_start
[b]The early morning, near the police department…[/b]

The icy wind slices against your face, stopping only when you finally step into the department.

The sudden change in temperature sends an unpleasant tingle across your skin, but you ignore it, stomping your feet harder to shake off the snow as you hurry through the lobby.

A few staff members and officers greet you, but you simply nod, barely acknowledging them as you focus on steadying your breathing, still heavy from the rush.

Clutching the ID card you prepared in advance and have been nervously gripping all this time, you hold it to the reader to access the secure area. The device responds with an annoying beep, 
signaling authorized access. 

As you finally step deeper into the department, your eyes flicker to the electronic clock on the wall to confirm what you already know: late.

*page_break You're late.
It's been barely a month since you became a fully qualified detective—no longer working under Klemens' mentorship and shadowing ${man_his} every move, 
so punctuality has been something you've been meticulous about.

Still, on any other day, you might have accepted being late more easily—but not today. Not on briefing day. Not for your first official meeting with the chain of command.

And yet, here you are—late to the meeting that was supposed to shape the first impression of you in this new role.

[i]Not a good start at all.[/i]

Your thoughts quicken your pace, and though part of you knows it won't change anything, the frustration and embarrassment building with every unsteady, heavy breath drive you forward anyway.

Even texting Klemens to inform ${man_him} of the delay does little to ease your unease, because you weren't supposed to be late.

You had even prepared early to avoid this, but your morning had other plans: an accident on the bridge, miles of snarled traffic, and the unavoidable choice to abandon your car and trudge through the snow.

At least, that's what you told yourself as your trembling limbs carried you along the longer route to avoid today's accident—shivering not from the cold but from the haunting memories of the camera footage you reviewed the moment you gained access—watching the accident replay over and over, reliving how your aunt—

*page_break [b]Don't.[/b]
You clench your jaw tightly as you march straight to the briefing room, shifting your focus to at least try to salvage your appearance while you still have time.

With one hand, you unwrap your scarf, while the other brushes away the lingering snowflakes clinging to your already-soaked coat before unbuttoning it. Your stiff, frozen fingers fumble with the task, adding to your growing frustration—a frustration that becomes harder to suppress with every breath you take.

[i]Calm down. Focus.[/i]

As you approach your destination, you're already rehearsing the words in your mind, mentally preparing to apologize for the delay when you turn into the intended corridor only to freeze.

The glass door to the briefing room stands wide open, and you watch as half of the chain of command is already filing out, some passing you without a glance, others offering brief nods. 

You barely process it, realizing that you're not just late; you've missed the briefing entirely.

[i]Maybe it ended earlier than planned for a reason,[/i] you think, taking a deep breath to recover from the rush before slowly approaching the entrance. 

*page_break [i]If something happened—[/i]
Just as you're about to step inside, a familiar figure suddenly blocks your way. The unintentional proximity catches you off guard, compelling you to 
*if (K_tall = 3)
	meet
*if (K_tall != 3)
	cast your gaze @{K_tall downward|downward|meet|upward|upward} to meet 
the sharpness of the icy blue eyes.

"Inspector Moreno," you offer a quick greeting according to protocol, making an effort to keep your voice steady.

"${surname}," ${kyl_name} replies curtly, the lines of displeasure deepening further into ${kyl_his} already stern features—something you've grown accustomed to but still haven't entirely learned to ignore.

Realizing you're still standing too close, you quickly step back. "I apolog—"

"You're late," ${kyl_she} cuts you off in a low, biting tone. Before you can respond, ${kyl_she} uses the space you've cleared to step fully out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind ${kyl_him}, ${kyl_his} piercing gaze remains locked on you. "You can't even manage to make it to your first command briefing on time?"

You clench your jaw, swallowing the irritation that ${kyl_name}'s sharp words ignite in you.

*page_break [i]Maybe Klemens didn't have time to warn ${kyl_him}?[/i]
"There was an accident on the road, and traffic was backed up," you begin to explain, watching as ${kyl_name} turns away to close the door, 
the abrupt jangle of ${kyl_his} keys matching the precision of ${kyl_his} movement. "I had to leave my car behind and walk to the department to get here as quickly as I could."

${kyl_name}'s gaze shifts to you, ${kyl_his} eyes flickering over your appearance.

Although ${kyl_his} expression remains unreadable, a wave of embarrassment washes over you as you're acutely aware of your disheveled appearance: 
@{mc_bald your forehead is damp|damp hair sticking to your forehead} from the snow, a half-unbuttoned, soaked coat draped heavily over your shoulders, and wet footprints marking the ground where you stand.

"I… apologize for not arriving on time," you say, clearing your throat, trying to recover some semblance of professionalism.

${kyl_name} huffs. "You should have informed someone about your delay," ${kyl_she} says after a moment, ${kyl_his} tone razor-sharp, yet you still catch an undertone of something harder to decipher.

"I did," you reply cautiously, a hint of confusion creeping into your voice. "Klem—Mr. Bergmann—"

"Detective Bergmann is sick and absent today. So no, you didn't," ${kyl_name} cuts in curtly, ${kyl_his} gaze narrowing briefly before ${kyl_she} steps past you. "Follow me."

*page_break You comply, your thoughts swirling.
Yesterday, you and Klemens were stuck at a crime scene for hours in the biting cold, woefully underdressed for the unexpected weather shift. Given that Klemens had been feeling off for the past few days, the harsh conditions only made ${man_his} condition worse.

[i]$!{man_she} must be feeling really unwell if ${man_she} didn't even show up for work…[/i] On the other hand, you didn't see your Chief either, so maybe ${man_she} forced ${man_his} husband to take at least a few days to recover.

Regardless, you're equally concerned about Klemens' health and the realization that ${man_his} absence now makes you the sole detective in charge. 

You're not sure you're ready for that responsibility, especially today, because—

"What about the briefing with the investigative division?" you ask, 
*if (K_tall <= 2)
	your tall stature making it easier to match 
*if (K_tall >= 3)
	trying to match 
${kyl_name}'s brisk pace as ${kyl_she} strides down the hallway, ignoring the greetings from colleagues even as you both reach ${kyl_his} office.

When ${kyl_name} opens the door, ${kyl_she} turns to you to finally respond, "You'll be leading it."

Your throat tightens, but ${kyl_name} doesn't wait for your reply, stepping inside and leaves the door open—a wordless invitation for you to come in.

*page_break Taking a deep breath, you follow ${kyl_him} inside.
In an attempt to ease your worries while waiting for ${kyl_name} to elaborate, you distract yourself by scanning ${kyl_his} office with your gaze, yet your mind is already focused on the task at hand.

As the senior detective, it's Klemens' responsibility to lead the briefing. However, since your mentorship began, 
${man_she}'s always made sure to share the load—even allowing you to take charge when necessary to prepare you for moments like this.

So, even though it won't be your first time leading the briefing, it still feels different—especially since Klemens won't be there to back you up like ${man_she} usually does.

"You've got the files ready, don't you?" ${kyl_name}'s voice cuts through your thoughts as ${kyl_she} resumes ${kyl_his} seat, ${kyl_his} fingers tapping slowly on the countertop. "Or is being late not the only fuck-up I should expect from you today?"

You grit your teeth, forcing the calmness into your tone as you respond, "Everything is prepared as it should be."

"Good," ${kyl_she} says, gesturing to a stack of folders on the edge of ${kyl_his} desk. "This is what Detective Bergmann prepared yesterday." You step forward to grab the files, and ${kyl_she} adds, 
"I'll be there to back you up."

$!{kyl_his} words offer a surprising sense of relief—enough to ease the edge of your irritation, though you don't let it show, instead asking, "What about the morning briefing?"

"You'll get the details later," ${kyl_name} replies, ${kyl_his} expression unchanged, though the tension in the room seems to grow. "For now, focus on preparing to the following one."

You nod. "Understood, ${kyl_sir}."

${kyl_name} winces at the last word, shrugging ${kyl_his} shoulders. You've seen this reaction too many times—${kyl_his} discomfort with formalities—but you push the thought aside, unwilling to waste another second as you turn away to head toward your office.

*page_break
"One more thing," ${kyl_name}'s voice stops you, and when you look back, the corner of ${kyl_his} mouth tugs downward. "About your tardiness today. I won't record it this time, 
but consider this the one and only exception," ${kyl_she} says with a strange stiffness in ${kyl_his} tone, clenching and unclenching ${kyl_his} fist. "Don't let it happen again."

You blink, failing to hide your surprise this time. "I'll do my best not to let that happen again, ${kyl_sir}," you reply carefully, not willing to make promises that circumstances might prevent you from keeping. "I'll… make sure to notify dispatch if anything unexpected comes up."

"No." ${kyl_name}'s gaze hardens, and ${kyl_she} looks away, burying ${kyl_his} hand in ${kyl_his} messy red hair. "They already have enough of a workload without you adding to it."

There is no bite behind ${kyl_his} unpleasant words, but it's the palpable hesitation in ${kyl_his} tone that stops you from responding, causing the silence to stretch between you, growing heavier with each passing moment when ${kyl_name} finally speaks again. 

"I'll give you my number." $!{kyl_she} averts ${kyl_his} gaze. "It would be better if we had direct contact so we can communicate more easily."

*fake_choice
	#❤️ You feel a smirk curves on your lips. "I didn't expect you to be so forward."
		*set bold true
		It takes a moment for ${kyl_name}'s words to register, and even then, you're still unsure whether you heard ${kyl_him} correctly or how to respond to such an unexpected offer.

		Not that the offer itself is unusual; after all, using personal phones to communicate during work hours is pretty common. 

		But ${kyl_name} doesn't seem like the kind of person who would share ${kyl_his} number so openly, and—
		
		"I didn't expect you to be so forward," you say, a smirk curving on your lips.

		There's a brief pause, and ${kyl_name} blinks, processing your words in much the same way you did earlier, before ${kyl_his} gaze snaps back to you. "What?"
		
		"Nothing," you reply, tilting your head slightly. "Just wondering if you give out your number so freely to other employees…"
		
		*page_break [i]Or is it me receiving special treatment?[/i]
		The question lingers in your mind, but you hold it back, your eyes fixed on ${kyl_him}, testing the waters—curious to see how far you can push before ${kyl_she} steps in with work-related matters or tells you to shut up, especially considering ${kyl_his} position. Or—
		
		"I… It wasn't—it's about work," ${kyl_name} stammers after a moment, clearly flustered now, ${kyl_his} cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to suggest anything… personal."
		
		Your smile widens as you watch ${kyl_him} intently, enjoying the delicious reaction ${kyl_she} can't quite hide.
		
		"A shame," you murmur softly, registering the way your words make ${kyl_him} pause again, ${kyl_his} eyes widening slightly.
		
		Not giving ${kyl_him} a chance to respond—or a chance to shut this down—you place the files back on ${kyl_his} desk and pull out your phone.
		
		You're certain your words have had the desired effect, and you're enjoying the sharp, penetrating weight of ${kyl_his} gaze a little too much for your liking.
		
		[i]I need to focus,[/i] you remind yourself, clearing your throat and hoping your voice won't betray the smugness you feel as you say, 
	#💙 You nod silently, reminding yourself that it's about work to calm your racing heart.
		It takes a moment for ${kyl_name}'s words to register, and even then, you're still unsure whether you heard ${kyl_him} correctly or how to respond to such an unexpected offer.

		Not that the offer itself is unusual; after all, using personal phones to communicate during work hours is pretty common. 

		But ${kyl_name} doesn't seem like the kind of person who would share ${kyl_his} number so openly, and—

		[i]It must be ${kyl_his} work number,[/i] you tell yourself, giving ${kyl_name} a silent nod, placing the files back on ${kyl_his} desk to pull out your phone. 

		You can sense ${kyl_his} gaze on you, following your every movement, and the sensation it stirs within you, mingling with your thoughts, makes your pulse quicken.

		[i]It's absolutely work related,[/i] you try again, clearing your throat and hoping your voice won't betray your thoughts as you say, 
"I'm ready."

${kyl_name} doesn't respond, and the prolonged silence prompts you to glance at ${kyl_him} again.

$!{kyl_she} doesn't return your gaze; the strange stillness of ${kyl_his} expression makes @{bold your smile fade|you pause}, and as you notice the direction of ${kyl_his} gaze, your eyes follow almost instinctively, trying to understand what's wrong and—

Your hands. 

*page_break ${kyl_name}'s eyes remain fixed on your hands.
Since yesterday, hours spent in the cold wearing only thin nitrile gloves that protect your fingers from leaving traces but offer no defense against the biting chill have left your skin dry and damaged from the harsh frost, crackled along the bends of your fingers and knuckles.

The walk to the department this morning only worsened the condition: redness flared around the deepest cracks—some darkened with dried blood, others ready to split open further with even the slightest movement.

It's painful, yes—but easy to overlook unless someone is paying very close attention.

And apparently, ${kyl_name} is.

The thought sends a mix of emotions through you, 
*if (bold = true)
	the corner of your lips twitches with amusement as you ask, "See something you like?"

	"Shut up and give me your phone," ${kyl_name} demands with a sharp tone, ignoring your question and extending ${kyl_his} hand. You raise an eyebrow, and ${kyl_his} expression flashes with annoyance as ${kyl_she} says, 
*if (bold = false)
	blending a rush of embarrassment with something else that you have to force yourself to swallow down, intending to break the awkward moment when suddenly, ${kyl_name} extends ${kyl_his} hand.

	"Phone," $!{kyl_she} demands curtly, and seeing your confusion, ${kyl_his} expression flashes with annoyance as ${kyl_she} says, 
"I'll type the number myself."

There's an unusual edge to ${kyl_his} voice, quickly followed by the gradual reddening of ${kyl_his} ears—so vivid against the pale of ${kyl_his} skin that it catches you off guard, preventing you from asking the probing question. 

*page_break Wordlessly, you hand ${kyl_him} your phone.
You try not to make assumptions, yet there's no other explanation that fits as to why ${kyl_she} asked this.

Reflecting on it, 
*if (bold = true)
	a warmth begins to bloom in your chest, spreading through your entire body, making it hard to look away as ${kyl_name} quickly types in ${kyl_his} number and hands the phone back.

	As you accept it, 
*if (bold = false)
	you can feel your pulse quicken once more, filling your chest with a warmth entirely different from the embarrassment that flooded through you a moment earlier, making it hard to look away as ${kyl_she} quickly types in ${kyl_his} number before handing the phone back.

	As you accept it, 
you go to save the number, only to realize ${kyl_she} has already done so, saving it under ${kyl_his} name.

[i]'${kyl_name}'[/i]. Not 'Inspector Moreno'.

"Thank you," you say quietly, slipping the phone into your pocket before meeting ${kyl_his} gaze, noticing the redness creeping down ${kyl_his} neck as well.

"You have an hour to familiarize yourself with the case files before the briefing." $!{kyl_she} stands up and walks to ${kyl_his} shelf, retrieving some of the files. $!{kyl_his} back is turned to you, preventing you from catching ${kyl_his} expression. "I suggest you use every second."

"I will," you reply after a moment, collecting the files from ${kyl_his} desk again before practically forcing yourself to look away and exit the office.

Whether it's the weight of responsibility, the weight of ${kyl_name}'s gaze that leaves a lingering residue, or the uncomfortable heaviness of your soaked coat, you know you must focus and prepare for the day ahead.

You won't let Klemens and down, and…

*page_break You won't let ${kyl_name} down as well.
*goto_scene main_page