ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍᴇᴅ ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ 1)

０５ • Ｓｉｚｅ Ｍａｔｔｅｒｓ

𝓔𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭: 9/6/26

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*🅔🅝🅙🅞🅨 🅡🅔🅐🅓🅘🅝🅖 🅜🅨 🅦🅘🅣🅒🅗🅔🅢 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

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Ambrose woke to his alarm and lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling, dreading the day ahead.

If you're late, you're fired. Gabriel's voice, uninvited, looped in his head.

"Such an asshole," he muttered, and made himself get up. The clock gave him forty minutes. No time for breakfast, not if he wanted to maximize sleep over food.

He showered fast, mentally timing himself, dried off, brushed his teeth with one hand and his hair with the other. He'd picked his outfit the night before, something a step up from the office look since they were meeting the client: a burgundy turtleneck, a black overcoat, simple grey trousers. He was lacing his shoes when he caught the clock again.

4:30.

Fuck. Fifteen minutes.

He raced through the kitchen and nearly missed the cup, the plate, and the sticky note waiting on the counter.

Have a good day! Don't let that asshole, sexy as he may be, make you doubt yourself. You've got this! — Anthony

He smiled. Anthony had clearly gotten up earlier than him just to leave this, the plate was still warm. He grabbed everything and headed for the car, the black Ford sedan they technically shared, though Anthony chipped in on the insurance to make it fair. He cranked the heat against the November chill and pulled out toward the airport, grateful for how empty the roads were this early.

I'll get there on time. Oh wait. Early. I have to be early.

He fiddled with the radio until he landed on something worth the drive. Missy Elliott's "Get Ur Freak On" came through the speakers, and he nodded along, mouthing the words. Funny, being reborn a few years back meant songs that used to be nostalgia for him were brand new here.

As he took the airport exit, he ran through basic French phrases out loud, warming his mouth and brain up for the day.

"Bonjour. Ça va? Je voudrais un café."

Parking took longer than he wanted, the closest spot was still a hike from the entrance. He sipped the coffee Anthony had made him and peeked at the plate: toast and eggs. He managed a few bites on the walk in, not enough to fill him up but enough that he wouldn't be running on nothing.

The terminal was already loud with morning traffic, families and luggage and kids weaving everywhere. He found the arrivals board, located the right flight and baggage level, and checked his watch as he moved, fast-walking to make it by five fifty.

He spotted Gabriel at baggage claim, already on the phone. Gabriel glanced at him and turned away without so much as a nod.

Rude.

Ambrose planted himself nearby and waited, using the silence to take stock of him. Same general look as the office meeting, grey suit, blue tie, though today he'd added a navy overcoat.

Guess neither of us likes the cold.

Gabriel ended the call and finally acknowledged him, one eyebrow lifting. "You're early."

"Just like you asked."

"So you can follow directions." He turned back toward the gate.

Ambrose rolled his eyes at his back. I'm not slow. I know how to be on time.