Page 165 of Knotting the Firefighters
Sylvie's phone buzzes insistently, shattering the peaceful moment with electronic intrusion. She checks the screen with an expression suggesting she already knows what the notification contains and isn't pleased about it.
"I need to come in," she announces with resignation, already standing. "Have a new set of doctor apprentices rotating through, and they require constant supervision or they make decisions that violate both medical ethics and common sense."
Supervised.
She emphasized supervised with particular inflection.
Interesting.
Hazel's knowing smirk suggests she caught the same subtext I did.
"Mhmm, supervised right," Hazel drawls with exaggerated innocence. "I'm sure they listen to your professional guidance without any complications or distractions."
The wink she adds is absolutely shameless, clearly implying something beyond simple medical supervision.
Sylvie's face floods with color— blush that spreads from her cheeks down her neck, visible even against her olive complexion.
"Hush," she whispers with shy reprimand, attempting a stern expression that's completely undermined by her embarrassment. "Not an appropriate discussion for a morning run."
There's definitely a story there.
Involving doctor apprentices and supervision.
Filing that away for future inquiry when Sylvie's less flustered.
Hazel laughs—a warm sound that echoes through the trees, genuine amusement at Sylvie's discomfort.
"Now you're starting to develop backbone as Omega," she observes with approval. "Standing up to teasing, setting boundaries, using actual words instead of just blushing and hoping people stop."
Backbone.
Interesting phrasing.
Suggests Sylvie hasn't always been assertive about her boundaries.
Sylvie pouts—a childlike expression that seems incongruous with her professional competence but somehow works.
"Thank you for inviting me to work out," she says with genuine gratitude, directing a comment toward both of us."Don't really have many friends here, let alone other Omegas to spend time with."
Lonely.
She's lonely despite professional success and community integration.
Because Omega friendships are rare when everyone's absorbed in their own pack dynamics.
The admission triggers recognition—a mirror of my own experience, a reflection of the isolation I'd been feeling before this unexpected pack formation.
"I actually had substantial Omega community," I hear myself saying, thoughts organizing as I speak. "Ran book club and café that attracted local Omegas—weekly gatherings, discussions about literature and life, informal support network that formed organically."
Wildflower & Wren.
My sanctuary that became a prison.
"But I stopped," I continue, explaining what I hadn't fully articulated even to myself. "Closed the café, cancelled the gatherings, withdrew from social connections I'd been cultivating."
"Why?" Hazel's question is gentle but direct, a medical professional's interest in understanding behavioral changes.
I struggle to articulate feelings I've been avoiding examining too closely.
