The walk back was quiet at first. Not uncomfortable, but charged with something neither of them acknowledged. They moved close but not touching, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm.

  Roslyn let the silence settle, then broke it with something light. "How long have you been Director of Records?"

  "Five years."

  "Do you like it?"

  Townmouse considered this. "I like order. I like knowing that things are documented correctly. That history is preserved."

  "That sounds lonely too."

  Town Mouse's whiskers twitched. "You keep saying that."

  "Because I think it's true."

  They turned a corner, and ahead, a street vendor had set up a small dispy of flowers. Bright wildflowers in makeshift vases, their colors vivid against the gray cobblestones.

  Town Mouse's steps slowed.

  Roslyn noticed immediately. "Do you like those?"

  Townmouse startled, as if caught doing something she shouldn't. "Oh. They're... yes, they're lovely. I don't usually—" She stopped herself, ears fttening.

  Roslyn stepped toward the vendor. "Which ones?"

  "You don't have to—"

  "Which ones?" Roslyn's tone was warm but insistent.

  Townmouse hesitated, then pointed to a small cluster of white and pale pink blooms—delicate, romantic, not too bold.

  Roslyn bought a single stem.

  When she turned back, Townmouse looked confused. Almost wary. "You really didn't have to do that."

  "I know." Roslyn stepped closer, holding the flower. "But I wanted to."

  Townmouse opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked genuinely thrown off—like no one had ever bought her something like this before. Like she didn't know what to do with the gesture.

  Roslyn smiled, soft and deliberate. "These flowers would look beautiful in your hair."

  Town Mouse's eyes widened. "I—what?"

  Roslyn didn't wait for permission. She reached up, her movements slow and careful, and slid the stem behind Town Mouse's ear. Her fingers brushed against soft fur, tucking the flower gently into pce near her temple. The touch lingered—just a moment longer than necessary. Fingertips grazing the edge of Town Mouse's ear, then trailing down, barely touching the line of her jaw.

  Townmouse went completely still. Her breath caught, audible in the quiet street.

  Roslyn didn't step back yet. They were close enough that she could see the rapid flutter of Town Mouse's pulse in her throat. Close enough to see the way her whiskers trembled.

  "There," Roslyn said softly. "Beautiful."

  Townmouse swallowed. Her voice came out quieter than usual, almost uncertain. "Thank you."

  They stood there for a heartbeat too long. Roslyn could feel the heat radiating off Town Mouse's skin, could see the way her ears stayed ft—not in anger, but in something like overwhelmed awareness.

  Then Roslyn smiled and stepped back.

  They continued walking.

  Town Mouse's hand drifted up once, touching the flower in her hair as if to make sure it was real. She pulled her fingers back quickly, but Roslyn had already seen it.

  *She's affected. Good.*

  No. Not just good. Something else. Something that made Roslyn's own pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with the job.

  ---

  They reached the Records Office too soon.

  Townmouse stopped at the door, turning to face her. Her hand moved unconsciously to the flower again, then dropped to her side. She was trying so hard to look professional, to pull that armor back into pce.

  "Well," Townmouse said, her voice carefully neutral. "I should get back to work."

  "All business," Roslyn said, but there was warmth in her voice.

  She let a beat pass, then asked casually, "What time do you get off work?"

  Townmouse blinked. "I... around five usually. Sometimes ter."

  "Maybe I'll be around." Roslyn tilted her head slightly, letting her smile deepen. "I could walk you home. Or we could have dinner somewhere in town."

  Town Mouse's whiskers twitched rapidly. "I don't know. I'm usually very busy. I have... things to organize." She was flustered now, the cracks in her composure widening. "We'll see."

  "We'll see," Roslyn echoed, softer.

  She let another moment of silence settle between them, then added, "I'm still hoping to get more information about Millbrook. Those detailed maps you mentioned."

  Townmouse met her eyes. Something passed between them—acknowledgment, maybe. Or possibility.

  "Come by tomorrow," Townmouse said quietly. "I'll see what I can find."

  Roslyn's smile deepened. "I'd like that. Seeing you again, I mean."

  Town Mouse's ears fttened again. Her breath hitched slightly. "The maps," she said, but her voice wavered.

  "Yes," Roslyn said, holding her gaze. "The maps."

  They both knew that wasn't all she meant.

  Townmouse turned quickly and disappeared through the door, the flower still tucked behind her ear.

  ---

  Roslyn stood there for a moment, watching the closed door.

  Her heart was beating faster than it should be.

  *She finds me attractive. That's clear enough.*

  The memory of Town Mouse's fur under her fingertips rose unbidden. Soft. Warm. The way her breath had caught when Roslyn touched her. The way she'd looked at her—vulnerable and wanting and trying so desperately not to show it.

  *Is this professional? Am I doing this just for the job?*

  No.

  Roslyn felt the truth of it settle in her chest, uncomfortable and undeniable. She was more emotionally invested than she wanted to admit. The thrill wasn't just about the con anymore—it was about Townmouse herself. The way she tried so hard to maintain control and kept failing. The way she'd looked at the flowers like no one had ever given her anything beautiful before.

  The way she'd let Roslyn touch her.

  Roslyn smiled to herself as she walked away, pulling her red hood up against the afternoon breeze.