Rose caught Felicity at breakfast.
Real breakfast, not scavenged scraps and not Ration Bars. Eggs still steaming in a dented pan, bread torn open and glossy with butter, someone had found jam, actual jam. Thick and dark in a jar that had survived the end of the world.
Rose stopped in the doorway and took it in without speaking. The table, the food, and the atmosphere, the silence, she exhaled slowly through her nose and pulled out a chair. "Well," she said flatly. "This is impressive."
Felicity blinked at her. "The food?"
Rose did not answer immediately; she let her gaze travel around the room instead. Every single member of Snow Team had suddenly discovered an urgent interest in anything that was not Felicity, A spoon or a crack in the wall, the label on a bottle.
One man stared at his plate with the intensity of a monk contemplating enlightenment, while another examined the grain of the wooden table as if it held hidden scripture.
Except Finch. Finch met Felicity's eyes directly, grinned, waved with a piece of toast in his hand, and went back to eating like this was a completely normal morning.
Rose nodded once, "At least one of you remembers how to behave in public."
Felicity swallowed "Rose…"
"Oh, don't." Rose reached for a plate and began serving herself without asking permission from anyone "I went to bed in a mercenary compound. I woke up in a monastery."
A chair scraped loudly somewhere behind her; someone coughed. Another man stood up abruptly and muttered something about checking the perimeter even though it was barely dawn.
Rose spread butter across her bread with neat, surgical strokes "So let me guess," she continued. "Something happened last night that made everyone extremely aware of their own thoughts."
Felicity's ears burned. Embarrassment prickled up her skin—had they all heard? She wished the floor would swallow her.
Across the room, Voss stood without looking at anyone and poured himself more coffee. He did not glance in her direction; he did not need to. He had heard it; they all had.
Snow Team's compound was reinforced concrete and steel, but it was not soundproof.
Rose took a bite of egg, chewed, then added casually, "and Voss?"
Voss walked out of the room without comment.
Rose smirked, "Thought so."
Finch looked up, confused "What?"
"You're fine," Rose told him, pointing her fork at him ", Gold star."
Finch beamed as she had knighted him.
Victor passed behind Felicity, then set down another plate beside her. He smelled faintly of coffee and old metal. He did not look embarrassed or apologetic.
He looked steady.
Rose glanced at the food again, then at Victor. "…Your space is ridiculous," she muttered.
Victor's mouth curved faintly.
"Don't look pleased," Rose said. "I can be irritated and well fed at the same time." She finished her eggs, stood, grabbed another slice of bread, paused at the doorway, and glanced back at Felicity. "Next time you accidentally make the entire team feral, give me a warning. I like to emotionally prepare before becoming the least ogled woman in the room."
She held Felicity's gaze for a second longer than necessary. "Keep the food coming," she added. "If I'm going to be ignored, I refuse to do it hungry." Then she left.
The room did not relax. If anything, it tightened.
Felicity stayed curled over her plate, shoulders drawn inward despite the abundance in front of her. She took small, careful bites, silently thinking: Don't make a sound. Don't let them look at you. Every shift of a chair made her ears twitch. Her eyes stung. Too bright—too many people, too much noise. She blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself. Don't cry. Just get through this meal.
Victor noticed immediately. She glanced up at him once, quick and guilty, as if she had been caught doing something wrong simply by being there. Heat climbed her neck. She swallowed too fast. "I didn't mean to make it weird," she murmured.
Victor leaned closer, voice low, "You didn't."
She huffed softly, unconvinced, and gave his chest a light punch. It barely moved him "You're the one who made everyone stare," she whispered, then quieter, almost hurt, "And Rose was kind of mean." She poked him again, softer this time, "she said I reset the chain of command," Felicity muttered. "I don't even know what that means."
Victor's mouth twitched, but he didn't laugh. He caught her wrist gently, not restraining, just anchoring. She froze for a second, then relaxed when he didn't pull her closer "You're doing fine," he said quietly. "And Rose's default setting is sharp. It's not about you."
Her ears drooped anyway, and she leaned into his side without thinking, shoulder brushing his arm as she focused intensely on her food.
Victor let her eat his hand, which hovered clSnow Team noticed. It was worse than last night. Last night had been instinct, heat and noise. The kind of feral sound that could be explained away by biology and proximity. This was quiet. as quiet.
Felicity sat there eating jam on toast like she had no idea she had shifted the centre of the room. She took small bites, and she swallowed carefully. She blinked too much, and she was sad.
That was the part that changed this. One man froze mid-sip, set his cup down with exaggerated care; another stood abruptly and declared patrol; someone muttered a curse under his breath; and no one laughed.ughed.
Finch slid the jam closer to her without comment.
Then Felicity sniffed softly and said, barely audible, "Rose was being kind of mean."
Every head turned, not toward Felicity but toward the doorway Rose had left through. The looks were not subtle, they were flat, direct and assessing. Rose had not been cruel; that did not matter. The fox was upset.
Victor shifted slightly, broad frame blocking Felicity from the wider view of the room; only then did the others look away.
The message was clear.
Whatever else this was, it was not optional.
⸻
Voss had not moved; he had heard everything the night before. Not because he had stood outside the wall like a voyeur, but because the wolf in him had been awake and alert, mapping territory, he had told himself he was checking the perimeter but had not moved when the sounds started or had not moved when Victor's voice dropped low or had not moved when Felicity's breath broke. He had stood still and listened until the wolf in him understood exactly what had changed. Now, he watched her blink too hard at the table. That wasn't shame, that was hurt, a different thing entirely. His jaw tightened, and a low growl tried to rise in his chest before he crushed it down. His gaze flicked briefly toward the hallway Rose had taken; his mind did the math automatically, not violence, no, not yet, just options.
If Rose cut too deep next time, if that sharp tongue left a mark that lingered, Voss was not entirely certain he would stay neutral. He flexed his fingers instead and grounded himself. This wasn't about ownership; it wasn't even about desire; it was about structure.
Felicity finished her breakfast slowly, still tucked against Victor's side, unaware of the quiet agreement settling around her. She wasn't just desired, she was stabilising something, and Snow Team, hardened men who had survived a day that should have killed them, had made a decision without speaking.
Whatever happened next.
No one was allowed to make her feel small in this space again.