Jean pushed open the heavy rooftop door, the faint click swallowed by the rush of wind that greeted her. She stepped out, heels echoing against the concrete until even that small sound faded into the city's distant hum.
Up here, the world felt strangely weightless. The orange glow of dusk bled into bruised purple clouds. Breathing felt easier but only just. This is the feeling of victory.
Jean walked to the railing, fingers curling around cold metal. The faint tremor in her hand annoyed her; she willed it still.
In the glass reflection of the door, she saw him.
Logan.
He didn't announce himself. Didn't clear his throat or call her name.
Just stepped out quietly, letting the door close behind him. His tie was loose; sleeves rolled. The day's exhaustion clung to his shoulders, but his eyes… dark, steady, were only on her.
For a heartbeat, Jean kept her gaze on the skyline.
"Following me?" she asked, the words teasing but her voice softer than she meant.
