The paper crane was still there.
Floating behind Victor Sterling's desk like it had a full-time job as a supernatural interior decoration.
Lila Monroe didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
Just stared at it from her seat like sheer willpower might convince gravity to do its job.
"Please," she whispered under her breath. "Land. Float down. Flap away. Do a somersault. Anything but this."
It didn't listen.
Of course it didn't. Ghosts never did.
Mr. Hawkins, the office's resident non-corporeal nuisance, hovered nearby, grinning like a gremlin on sugar. "I think it adds charm. Very minimalist haunted chic."
"Go away," she hissed softly.
"I'm morally obligated to enjoy this," Hawkins replied, crossing his ghostly arms. "You're the only person who can see me, remember? This is prime-time entertainment. You're basically walking talking rom-com series."
Lila flicked her eyes toward him. "You are not helping."
"You're welcome." He floated up slightly, crossing his ghostly arms. "I think we should name it. What do you say? 'Craney'? 'Orighostmi'?"
"I swear, Hawkins, if you name it, I will throw salt at your face."
"Joke's on you—I like seasoning."
Victor sat at his desk, typing like a machine—calm, efficient, completely unaffected. Did he not see the gravity-defying origami directly behind him? It was practically performing aerial ballet.
Either he was incredibly focused…
Or completely blind to airborne hazards.
Or—worst possibility—he had seen it and thought it was her fault.
No. No no no. Her luck wasn't that cursed… probably.
The crane bobbed slightly higher, catching a shaft of light from the tall window. It shimmered like something out of a Studio Ghibli fever dream. Lila swore it winked at her.
That was it.
Lila bolted to her feet. "I—I need to drop off a file," she blurted, grabbing the nearest folder from her desk.
It was empty. But desperate times.
Marching toward his office like a woman on a mission (a deeply irrational, ghost-motivated mission), she tried to look casual. Like she wasn't planning an exorcism behind the stapler.
Victor looked up as she approached. "Something urgent?"
"Yes. I mean—no. Just, uh, rechecking this file. Cross-referencing. Very technical."
She edged around his chair with the grace of a shopping cart on one wheel, eyes flicking toward the crane now lazily spinning over his head like it was enjoying a midair spa day.
He turned slightly in his chair. "You're… hovering."
"I'm just stretching. Good to stretch after sitting. Blood flow and all." She did a little bounce on her heels and immediately regretted it.
Victor raised one eyebrow. "Are you feeling—"
And then the crane floated downward.
Slowly.
Toward. His. Shoulder.
Panic hijacked her central nervous system.
Lila lunged forward with all the coordination of a nervous flamingo, flailing one arm to swat the crane and the other to maintain balance—unsuccessfully.
Her foot caught on the edge of the rug.
Victor stood just in time to catch a full-body Lila crash.
They collided like human Jenga—papers flew, the folder smacked the floor, and Lila found herself pressed against his chest, one hand clutching his tie like it was a zipline.
And his hand—
Oh no.
His hand was on her hip. Firm. Warm. Steadying.
Her heart tripped over itself.
There was silence. Loud, humbling silence.
She didn't dare move.
Victor didn't either. He just held her there, his fingers tightening slightly at her waist. Not inappropriate—just anchoring. As if, for a second, he didn't mind holding her that close.
Her breath caught.
She looked up, just enough to see his face. His expression wasn't cold. It wasn't even surprising. It was… thoughtful. Focused. Like she was something curious and unexpected. Like he was trying not to react.
Which made it so much worse.
"I swear," she gasped, "this is not a seduction technique."
"…Noted," he said, voice completely deadpan—though she could have sworn his ears turned faintly pink.
Mr. Hawkins hovered near the ceiling like a mischievous chandelier. "Can we get some romantic background music in here? Maybe violins? Bit of Barry White?"
She scrambled off him in a tangle of limbs and flustered noises, ponytail half undone, blouse wrinkled like a tragedy. "The floor… attacked me."
Victor adjusted his tie slowly, fingers brushing the spot where hers had been. "Aggressive flooring. We should report it to Facilities."
There was a long pause. Lila bent to retrieve the folder—and, oh thank every possible higher power—the crane was gone. Landed somewhere? Disappeared? Floated back to ghost origami heaven? She didn't care. It wasn't hovering anymore.
Mr. Hawkins drifted through the wall just then, rubbing his ghostly hands together like a delighted uncle at a wedding. "That was the best episode of The Bachelor I've ever seen."
Lila bit her tongue.
Victor tilted his head slightly. "You're having a very unusual day."
"You have no idea," she muttered.
He gave her a long look. Not cold. Not even stern. Just… mildly intrigued. Like she was a math problem he hadn't solved yet. "You handled the fall well."
"Oh yes," she said brightly. "Ten out of ten. Graceful as a flying brick."
For the first time—definitely this time—she saw it.
A twitch of his lips.
A subtle, blink-and-miss-it almost-smile.
Was that… amusement?
Victor Sterling had emotions? A sense of humor? Could it be?
Mr. Hawkins mock-whispered, "That's generous."
Victor turned back to his desk. "You can take five. Might help your balance recover."
She nodded quickly, stepping out of his office as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.
As soon as she returned to her seat, she dropped her head onto the desk.
"I'm going to die," she mumbled. "Not from ghosts. From embarrassment."
"Eh, you'll get used to it," Mr. Hawkins said, now lounging upside down mid-air like a ceiling bat. "Victor's not so scary once you've flattened yourself against him."
"Please stop talking."
"Just saying. For a first crash-landing, you really stuck the dismount."
"I hate you."
"You say that, but you'll miss me when I'm exorcised."
She groaned and peeked toward Victor's office. He hadn't looked up again.
Was that a good thing? Or was he calling security?
"Next time," she whispered to herself, "let the crane hit him."
Mr. Hawkins floated closer. "You know, he kind of held onto you a second longer than strictly necessary."
"Out!"
He vanished through the filing cabinet with a dramatic wink.
Lila sighed and slumped back in her chair, already dreading what the upcoming ghostly disaster would look like.