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The overhead lights buzz softly, a quiet hum beneath the shuffling of papers and distant radio chatter.

Reese is alone in the file room, tucked between the heavy gray cabinets stacked with manila folders and past lives. She's focused, but tired.

She slides a file into its place, alphabetically neat, just like her father taught her. Her hand lingers on the metal edge of the drawer.

Behind her, the door creaks open.

"If it's another stack from Records, I swear I'm quitting. I'll go work nights at Eichen." Reese said— not turning around.

"That's a little dark. Even for you."

Reese looks over her shoulder, surprised— but not unpleasantly.

She smiled. "Oh. Hey, Parrish." She said.

He gives her a small smile, holding a few folders in his hand. Casual. Comfortable.

"Sheriff asked me to file these." He said, holding the files up. "Didn't know the Dungeon of Forgotten Files was already occupied."

Reese chuckled, lightly. "You're looking at the temporary queen of it. All because I made the mistake of asking my dad if he needed my help." She rolled her eyes at the last part.

"Classic mistake." He chuckled.

He steps in beside her, opening the cabinet next to hers. For a moment, they work in companionable silence — the kind that only happens between two people who've spent time not speaking and still understood each other.

Reese cleared her throat, looking over at Jordan. "You know, for someone who started after me, you show up here more than anyone." She said.

"Maybe I just like well-organized chaos." He shrugged.

"Or maybe you're just as bad at sleeping as I am."

Jordan glances over. The look they share is quite. Familiar.

"Yeah... maybe." He murmured— softly.

The silence that follows isn't awkward. It just is. And in it, Reese shifts slightly, reaching for another folder — her hand brushing his arm as she does.

She pauses.

Something about the contact lingers. Just a second too long. Neither of them moves.

After a few seconds, Reese speaks. "You ever get the feeling... like something's waiting?" She asked.

Jordan looks at her, curious. "Waiting?" He asked.

"I don't know." She said— shrugging. "Like... something just outside the edge of what you can see. Not bad. Just... quite. Watching."

Jordan's smile faded slightly, but not from discomfort. From recognition.

"Yeah. I get that." He told her.

They both go still for a moment. The kind of stillness that feels like a breath before the storm. That was until Reese broke the silence.

"Anyway. Could just be the fluorescent lights. They're definitely haunted." She joked.

Jordan smirked. "Or maybe it's just you. Creeping everyone out." He said— Reese hummed.

"Occupational hazard of being a Stilinski."

They both laugh quietly— the moment passing, but not forgotten.

"See you later, Reese." He smiled, shutting the file cabinet.

"Yeah. You too."

He exits, leaving Reese alone again— but the room feels different now. Not heavier. Not lighter. Just... like something shifted.