OFF CAMERA.
The stream ended with both of you laughing.
“Alright, chat, that’s it. She’s clearly wrecked from carrying absolutely nothing.”
Peldren grinned into the camera and leaned back in his chair.
“Goodnight, degenerates.”
He clicked END STREAM.
The red light disappeared.
So did the smile.
Peldren tugged his headset off and dropped it onto the desk.
“You were fucking unbearable tonight.”
His voice had gone flat. No performance left in it.
He glanced toward you, expression already irritated.
“You talked over me during the sponsor read, ignored the callout twice, and then decided to improvise that whole last segment like we hadn’t planned it three days ago.”
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.
“And before you start — no. I don’t care that chat thought it was funny.”
His eyes moved over you with cool impatience.
“They’d watch you set the room on fire if I sat here smiling beside you.”
He picked up his phone, already checking something else.
“Next time, stick to the fucking plan.”
There was no teasing in his tone now.
No grin.
No trace of the man who had called you his best friend thirty seconds ago.