Just as Warren was smoothing down his jacket, Regan was stripping herself of hers. Keeping the wolf fire under her skin from burning too hot was something that required constant attention and focus. Working with Cassian to contain her beast these past weeks had helped, but she carried an extra burden that he and Alys did not. The fire, the desire to burn that always threatened to consume her. So, Regan sought relief in her own ways. Othello was spending some well-deserved time with his family which sent her heading for the docks to swim.

It was later in the day, soldiers at the end of their shifts, the hustle and bustle of the afternoon dying down as the sun faded into early evening. Regan had gone to the furthest end of the dock, tucked behind the congestion of shipping crates, intending to stash some of her things before scaling down under the docks for a quick dip.

Regan had just reached to unlace her boots heard Warren’s voice. She startled, standing up with a cough and trying to be cool. Despite the cold air, Regan was stripped to her sleeveless undershirt, the cut of her muscles on full display.

“Uh,” Regan coughed again, weighing whether to reach for her jacket, “No, not interrupting anything. Not at all.” She tucked her hands behind her back. “How can I help you, Lieutenant?”

Regan nearly rolled her eyes. Cleared his afternoon, eh? Well in that case she’d drop whatever she was doing. She’d hate for any of his valuable time to go to waste. Really her sourness had less to do with Warren and more to do with the fact she was about to be robbed of her whole reason for coming down here.

“Cold, yes, but I find it, uh, bracing.” Regan grumbled with an unconvincing nonchalance l. She picked up her shirt and slipped it on, jacket following. “But it can wait. What’s on your mind?”

Regan didn’t really have a guess as to the what. She was far more distracted by the itch that she’d been about to scratch.

Of course Regan knew exactly what he was talking about. Her fingers, which had been efficiently buttoning her jacket, slowed and paused before resuming their task. Her strength was born from the same fire that had driven her to the chilling waves. A power so tantalizing and near that Regan couldn’t resist it—not then, not now. Her eyes flashed, coals in them surging for an almost imperceptible moment before fading again.

“You flatter me, sir,” Regan grumbled with an uneasy, lopsided grin, “But perhaps the better explanation is that you’ve overestimated your own strength. Or rather, underestimated women my size.” It was sloppy retort, delivered by one not used to evasive playful banter. Perhaps she should have paid more attention to Kennet when she had the chance.

Regan crossed her arms, a curious eyebrow slowly raising as Warren spoke. Wow. Regan was willing to bet this guy was oodles of fun at a party. But she was also willing to bet he was damn good at his job. She considered him, starting from the tips of his boots and working her eyes up until they fell on his face again. Unless Warren broke the silence, she’d let one sit between them for a moment with only the crashing waves to fill it. Then, Regan would sigh, a slight smirk on her lips.

“Unfortunately what I have is not an advantage you can claim. But it is one Commander Usher is well aware of, so don’t think it’s a secret I’m keeping to myself.” Regan took a few steps forward. Her normally inky eyes turned amber, glowing brightly as coals against the dismal gray of the Nevermerean evening.

“What happened in the training yard was a mistake,” Regan confessed in a low voice, the faintest hint of fangs brushing against her bottom lip, “I trust you’ll keep it between us. And brush off any questions those two might have.” And just like that, Regan’s eyes darkened again, her fangs retreated, and she was just an ordinary soldier standing on the dock once more. Looking at Warren again, she smiled, “I’m a bit of a show-off, but I’m working on it. Sorry you got your ass kicked because of it.”

Regan grinned her awkward, toothy grin, running a hand through her cropped hair.

There’d hardly been a ripple in the flat surface in the man’s demeanor since he’d interrupted her swim. The smile—if it could be called that—was something she supposed. Given her own demeanor was usually just as surly, Regan almost felt like he was mocking her. She crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at Warren as he…complimented her? Was it a compliment? Warren’s eyes focused on her, and she immediately grew flustered—as was to be expected. Then, Warren started to leave, and she felt she should say something.

“Well we should do it again sometime,” Regan blurted before she could take the words back. Immediately she turned beet red, hearing what the statement sounded like once it hit the air. “Well,” Regan shrugged, running a hand through her hair, “I’m just saying that if you ever wanted to get yoru ass kicked, you, uh, know where to find me. Or, you know,” She spluttered for a moment, “Just. Yeah. I’m around.”

Regan ended on a note of authority, entirely at odds with the lopsided structure of her entire sentence.