Page 156 of Knotting the Firefighters
Probably something I'm going to have complicated feelings about.
"Chief Murphy," he begins with a formal address that feels deliberately official, "I've reviewed your credentials extensively, consulted with contacts in LA who speak extremely highly of your capabilities, and witnessed firsthand your impact on our operational efficiency."
Flattery.
Or a genuine assessment.
Possibly both.
"I'm officially offering you the Chief position at Station Fahrenheit," he continues, words I've been anticipating since our first conversation. "Effective immediately, with contract terms we can negotiate to your satisfaction."
Chief.
Actual Chief again.
Not temporary, not consultant, not interim—Chief.
The title settles over me like a familiar uniform—comfortable despite months spent avoiding it, right in ways I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge.
"However—" Tom pauses, the word carrying weight that suggests significant deviation from expected trajectory. "—I have an alternative proposition that I believe serves everyone's interests more effectively."
Alternative proposition.
Here comes the complication.
Before I can request clarification, the office door opens without a preliminary knock—a confident entrance that speaks to someone comfortable with authority, someone who belongs in leadership spaces.
Aidric appears in the doorway, his expression shifting from professional composure to visible confusion as he registers my presence.
He wasn't expecting me.
Didn't know I'd be here.
Tom kept this meeting deliberately ambiguous.
Our eyes meet briefly—storm-gray encountering green, both of us maintaining professional masks despite the bond humming between us, the connection that's made maintaining distance increasingly difficult.
Pack.
We're a pack now.
Whether either of us is fully comfortable with that reality.
He moves to sit in the remaining visitor chair with controlled precision, body language broadcasting careful neutrality despite the tension evident in his shoulders.
Professional.
Maintaining professional demeanor despite personal complications.
Good.
Tom's watching, assessing, cataloging our interactions.
Tom observes our silent exchange with an expression suggesting he's reading volumes from minimal data, connecting dots we'd prefer remained unconnected in professional contexts.
"Since I discovered you've formed pack bonds—" His words are matter-of-fact, carrying no judgment but making my stomach drop with implications. "—I've reconsidered my initial approach to leadership transition."
Oh no.
