It was just after another raid—mud still caked on their boots, the adrenaline not fully settled. The air around the camp was thick with exhaustion. Some of the other raid members sat together, trying to replenish their energy, nursing their wounds and speaking in low voices. Laughter occasionally broke out, but it didn't carry far; the weariness of the fight still hung heavily over everyone.

But Sébastien didn't linger with them. He wasn't looking for their chatter, the casual conversations about loot and strategy. He knew exactly where he needed to go. The others would be fine, at least for now. But there was only one person he had to find, one person who wouldn't be by the fire, one person who would likely be alone.

Sébastien moved away from the main camp, heading toward the outskirts of the clearing. His boots sank slightly into the earth with each step, his gaze scanning the area for the lone figure. It didn't take long before he spotted him.

Xander was sitting on a large, jagged rock at the edge of the camp, his back against a tree. The fading light of the day reflected off his silhouette, making him appear even more lonely. He was staring into the distance, not at anything in particular—just out there, lost in thought. His usual unreadable expression was there, but there was a weariness in it that even he couldn't hide. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dimming light, sending tendrils of smoke into the air.

Sebastien walked up, kicked a small pebble out of the way. He stopped a few feet away, pulling out his own cigarette as he did. He didn't make a move to sit just yet, not wanting to crowd him. He knew Xander wasn't big on close contact. He lit the cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled slowly, waiting. Letting the silence stretch. He wouldn't rush this.

Xander didn't even look at him. He simply took another drag from his own cigarette, his gaze still far off.

"Don't tell me you're planning to stand there all night," Xander said, his voice low, not looking up.

Sébastien smirked, taking another slow drag. "Maybe," he said, his voice light. "I'm just here to make sure you're not missing me."

Xander finally turned his head slightly, glancing at Sébastien out of the corner of his eye. He let out a low chuckle, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. Xander didn't respond immediately, just flicked the ashes off his cigarette and took another long drag, as though weighing Sébastien's words.

"Missing you?" Xander echoed, his tone flat but with a touch of sarcasm. "You really think I'd miss you?"

Sébastien shrugged nonchalantly, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He finally took a seat on the stone next to Xander. Xander stayed silent as he took another drag, the sound of the embers crackling softly in the night air. Sébastien was fine with the silence. But there was something gnawing at him, something he'd been turning over in his mind for a while.

Sébastien watched him for a moment, considering.

"I've been thinking," he began.

Xander didn't look up. "Dangerous habit."

Sébastien smirked, tapping ash off the end of his cigarette.

"I want to build a team. My own. People I choose, people I trust."

That caught Xander's attention. Xander's hand paused with the cigarette just short of his lips. He glanced up, arching a brow.

"I'm not talking about just tagging along with whoever's hiring," Sebastien went on. "I mean a real team. Strong. Tight-knit. Not just people I get stuck with on jobs. I'm talking about people I trust. People who'd die for each other if it came to that."

Xander's grip tightened slightly on his cigarette, but he didn't speak right away. Instead, he seemed to absorb the weight of Sébastien's words, his focus drifting to the flickering embers of his own cigarette.

"And you're telling me this because...?"

"Because the first person I thought of for that team—was you."

The air went still between them. Xander studied him, eyes narrowing a bit, like he was waiting for a punchline. When none came, he leaned back slightly.

"Are you sure about that?" he said, low. "You do remember what people say about me, right?"

"And I've told you already, I don't care what they say," Sebastien replied without missing a beat. "I've seen what you can do. I've seen who you are in the field. I don't need anyone else's opinion."

Xander was quiet for a long moment, then looked away, back down to his cigarette.

"I'm not... great with people," he muttered.

"You don't have to be," Sebastien said, with a hint of a smirk. "That's my job."

That earned a small breath of a chuckle from Xander. A rare sound.

He was still quiet, but this time it felt different—less like avoidance, more like consideration. And when he finally spoke again, it was with a sigh that sounded like surrender.

"You're serious about this."

"Dead serious."

Another pause.

"...Alright. I'm in."

Sebastien smiled, the fire in his eyes only burning brighter. "Good. You won't regret it."

There was silence between them as they were both lost in their own thoughts. Only the sound of their cigarettes crackling in the quiet night air broke the stillness.

Sébastien leaned back, closing his eyes. The weight that had clung to his shoulders for days had lightened, just a little.

For the first time, the dream didn't feel like something fragile and distant. It felt like something with shape.

Xander was the first piece.

And if he could find one, maybe he could find more. Not perfect people. Not the strongest or the most skilled, but people who would stay 

when the fight turned ugly. People who believed.

He closed his eyes briefly and smiled.

It had begun.