Nyra didn't notice at first.
The air had that sharp tang bitter, almost metallic, curling into her nostrils like a warning. Her fingers twitched, brushing at her pocket out of habit. She shook her head. No. Not now.
Elias noticed. Immediately.
"Nyra…" His voice was soft, careful, just enough to pierce the space between them.
She froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. "What?"
He didn't step closer. He just tilted his head, breathing shallow for a second, scanning her like he always did when something felt off.
"There's… smoke," he said gently. "Tobacco."
Nyra blinked. Quick. Defensive. "I… cut back."
Elias raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but not accusatory. "Feels… fresh."
She laughed, too sharp, a little nervous. "It's nothing. Air, maybe."
"Right." He didn't push. He never did. But his gaze lingered long enough for her to feel it the kind of quiet concern that could catch her off-guard if she wasn't careful.
Nyra exhaled slowly, forcing herself to shrug it off. She hadn't wanted to admit it. She hated admitting weakness. Especially now, after the gunshot, after surviving chaos she didn't think she'd live through.
But the smell lingered. Just enough for Elias to notice.
"Don't do it too much," he said finally, just above a whisper. "Not for me. For you."
She didn't answer. Didn't need to. His voice carried weight, familiarity, protection something sharper than Shark's quiet boundaries, something softer than Adrian's observation.
And that was the problem.
Nyra's hand twitched again. She felt the memory of smoke in her lungs the comfort, the habit, the release. Her mind screamed don't. Her body screamed why not.
Elias didn't need to see the battle raging inside her. He could smell it.
And that was enough.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the two of them.
One standing on the edge of control.
The other watching carefully.
The night outside continued lights, traffic, distant laughter but inside, the ghosts of smoke had already spoken.
And Nyra realized, finally, she wasn't alone in noticing.