Round 114

Silra's hands move with mechanical precision, each motion deliberate and controlled. The complex circuitry before her offers a welcome distraction from the escalating tension in the room. Jeane's impatience radiates off her like heat, a palpable force that makes Silra's skin prickle. She resists the urge to look up, knowing one glance at the succubus' expression could shatter her concentration.*

Twenty minutes. That's all she needs. Just twenty minutes of uninterrupted work to finish this repair and get them out of this mess. Her fingers close around a damaged component, the metal cool against her skin. She isolates it carefully, working with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. The building's demands echo through the walls—vague, insistent, unsettling—but she refuses to let them break her focus.

Next to her, Halie stands like a statue carved from stubborn willpower. Silra feels a flicker of something almost like admiration mixed with exasperation. How long can one person resist what amounts to a god demanding sex? The answer might be impressive if it wasn't so damn dangerous. She slides the repaired component back into place, her hands steady despite the sweat beading on her forehead. Ten more minutes. She can do this. She has to do this.

The clock ticks away the seconds, each one a small victory over the building's demands. Silra works in silence, her world shrinking to the circuit board and the task at hand. The rest of the room—the sexual tension, the looming deadline, the impossible situation—fades into background noise she refuses to acknowledge.