For most of Rhodes Island, Valentine's Day had been a whirlwind of gifts, blushes, and whispered confessions. But for Ch'en, Chief of the L.G.D. and resident workhorse, it was just another day packed with reports, mission debriefs, and the constant hum of responsibility.
She was buried in paperwork in the break room, her brow furrowed as she meticulously reviewed a recent field operation. The last thing she had time for was the childish chaos swirling around chocolates and confessions.
That was, until Swire swaggered into the room.
Swire's entrance was impossible to ignore—loud, confident, and with a mischievous grin plastered across her face. She waltzed in, holding a lavishly wrapped box in both hands, the ribbon glinting under the fluorescent lights.
"Well, well, if it isn't the ever-diligent Ch'en," Swire purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "Still working? Don't tell me you're ignoring Valentine's Day."
Ch'en didn't even glance up. "Unlike some people, I have real responsibilities."
Swire let out a dramatic sigh, placing the box of chocolates on the table with a delicate touch. "Oh, Ch'en, always so serious. But you see, some of us know how to balance work and charm." She gave the box a pat. "I'm sure Dokutah will appreciate my efforts."
That made Ch'en pause. Her eyes flicked up from her reports, narrowing slightly. "You're giving that to Dokutah?"
Swire's grin widened. "Of course. And I'm sure Dokutah will love it. I mean, who wouldn't prefer a thoughtful, elegant gift like mine?" She leaned in, her tone turning sly. "I doubt anyone else's will compare. Especially not from someone too busy drowning in paperwork."
The jab hit its mark. Ch'en's eye twitched, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. Swire's smugness was insufferable, and the idea of her parading around, bragging about how Dokutah would favor her—it was enough to push Ch'en over the edge.
Without thinking, Ch'en shot up from her seat and snatched the box from Swire's grasp.
"Hey!" Swire squawked, but Ch'en was already prying the box open, her expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
As the lid flipped back, Ch'en froze.
Inside wasn't just a simple box of chocolates. No, Swire had gone full Swire with it. Nestled within was an elaborate, miniature chocolate cake shaped in the likeness of Swire herself—complete with a smug, winking expression and a tiny chocolate cane resting over its shoulder.
Ch'en stared at it, her frown deepening.
"You've got to be kidding me." She glanced up at Swire, deadpan. "You think Dokutah's going to like this?"
Swire crossed her arms, huffing indignantly. "Of course! It's charming! Unique! Just like me!"
Ch'en scoffed, shutting the box with a snap and tossing it back onto the table. "It's ridiculous. Dokutah will probably be disappointed you wasted their time with this nonsense."
Swire's eyes narrowed, her voice rising with irritation. "Oh, please! You're just jealous because I'm not afraid to show a little personality. Unlike you, hiding behind that boring, stoic attitude!"
Ch'en rolled her eyes, grabbing her reports and turning to leave. "Jealous? Of you? Keep dreaming."
Swire stomped after her, refusing to let the argument die. "Admit it, Ch'en! You're scared Dokutah's going to like me more!"
Ch'en stopped in her tracks, her shoulders tensing. For a brief moment, she considered just walking away. But the fire in Swire's voice—and the nagging irritation clawing at her pride—made her turn around.
"Fine," Ch'en snapped. "If it means that much to you, I'll give Dokutah a gift, too."
Swire blinked, surprised. "Oh? I didn't think you cared."
"I don't." Ch'en's voice was sharp, but even she could hear the faint defensiveness in her tone. "But I'll be damned if I let you win."
With that, Ch'en stormed off, leaving Swire standing there, grinning like a cat who'd just cornered its prey.
Ch'en wasn't about to craft some ridiculous, over-the-top chocolate sculpture. She wasn't Swire. But as she stood in the commissary, eyeing the remaining Valentine's supplies, she realized she couldn't just hand Dokutah a boring, half-hearted gift either.
After a moment of thought, she grabbed a simple box of high-quality dark chocolate. No frills, no fancy decorations. Just something straightforward and solid.
That's good enough, she told herself. It's not like this means anything.
Ch'en approached Dokutah's office with her usual composed demeanor, though her grip on the chocolate box was just a little tighter than usual. She knocked once, brisk and efficient.
"Come in."
She stepped inside to find Dokutah at their desk, the familiar sight of gifts piled around them. But unlike the others, Ch'en didn't hesitate. She walked straight up to the desk and set the box down with a soft thud.
"Here," she said curtly. "It's Valentine's. Figured I'd give you something."
Dokutah looked up, tilting their head slightly. "Ch'en. I didn't expect that from you."
Ch'en shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Don't read into it. Just… thought it'd be a waste if only Swire got all the attention."
Dokutah chuckled softly, their calm, even tone cutting through the tension. "Well, thank you. I appreciate it."
Ch'en felt a flicker of something in her chest—something she quickly shoved down. She gave a brief nod, then turned to leave. But before she could reach the door, Dokutah's voice called out again.
"Oh, and Ch'en?"
She paused, glancing over her shoulder.
"I liked your gift," Dokutah said simply.
For some reason, those words lingered longer than Ch'en expected. She gave a small, satisfied smirk before leaving the room.