“What’s this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a gift,” she said, her tone defensive. “Don’t make it weird.”
He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, and then looked back at her. She was fidgeting with the strings of her hoodie, her cheeks slightly pink.
“You got me… socks?”
“You don’t wear them,” she pointed out, her voice sharp but her ears visibly reddening. “Your fancy shoes don’t make you invincible, you know. Blisters are a thing.”
He barked out a laugh, the sound filling the quiet bar. “You’ve been worrying about my feet?”
She scowled. “Don’t read too much into it. It’s just… practical.”
Adolphus studied her, his laughter fading into a soft smile. She was always like this—prickly on the surface, but there was so much care beneath it. It wasn’t just the socks; it was
