As they approached, Ariel slowed, noticing something she hadn’t seen on Friday—a polished new nameplate mounted to the right of the door, in Willowbound’s familiar script:

  Ariel McIntyre

  Director of Game Development

  And opposite it, just as shiny:

  Holly Sinclair

  PR Manager to the Director

  Holly’s breath caught. She reached out, fingers trembling, tracing her name with a reverence usually reserved for opening birthday presents or turning the last page of a favorite novel. Her eyes shone, caught between laughter and tears.

  “Ariel…” Her voice was soft, disbelieving. “That’s my name. On an office. On this office.”

  Ariel squeezed her hand, the corners of her mouth turning up. “You earned every letter, Sinclair.”

  Holly looked at Ariel, her lips pulling into a crooked, giddy grin, then back to the nameplate, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real. She let her fingers linger for another heartbeat before finally letting Ariel tug her gently inside.

  The door swung open on their shared space. Ariel’s own desk was as she’d left it—meticulous chaos, a patchwork of post-it notes, a plush mossy from Wispwood Haven perched by her monitor. But now, in the opposite corner, a new desk waited: caddy-cornered for conversation, dual monitors powered up and waiting, a fresh Willowbound-branded laptop docked and gleaming and a brand-new ergonomic chair. Someone had even left a sticky note in the center, in Abigail’s handwriting: “Welcome, Holly! I hope you enjoy your new space. -A”

  Ariel let out a low whistle. “Procurement did not hold back.”

  Holly wandered over in a slow daze, fingertips trailing the clean edge of the desk, eyes flicking from monitor to keyboard to the view out the window. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, illuminating the faint shimmer of excitement in the air.

  “It’s perfect,” Holly breathed. “I’ve never had… This is…” She broke off, laughing a little, almost sheepish. “I think I need to pinch myself.”

  Ariel watched her with quiet pride, then flopped down in her own chair, spinning to face Holly. “Let’s make it home.”

  As if on cue, Holly reached into her tote and began to pull out a handful of treasures. A pastel ceramic mug shaped like a cat. A tiny, chubby plush axolotl. A framed photo of the two of them at the Kerry Park overlook, wind in their hair, eyes shining. A little acrylic block that read: “You Got This!” in sparkly script.

  She arranged them carefully, turning her mug just so, setting the photo where the morning light would hit it. The axolotl found its spot next to the monitor, and Holly pressed the encouragement block right at the center edge, where she’d see it every day.

  Ariel watched, heart full to bursting. “You know, I always thought this office was missing a little chaos.”

  Holly stuck her tongue out, then crossed to Ariel’s chair and sat in her lap for just a second, their foreheads pressed together. “Thank you. For believing in me. For wanting me here.”

  Ariel’s arms curled around her, voice low and sure. “I’ve always wanted you here.”

  They sat like that for a quiet, beautiful moment, letting the reality of this new chapter sink in. Their names on the door, the desks caddy-cornered, the world of Willowbound waking up around them. Proof that, sometimes, dreams really did find their way into daylight.

  And today, this little office, both messy and filled with hope was theirs.

  Holly sank into her brand-new chair, still beaming at her name on the door, the desk arrangement, and the little collection of personal treasures she’d already placed just-so. Ariel joined her on the other side of the desk, coffee in hand and a warm, steady calm to her energy that made Holly feel like she’d been working here for years rather than minutes.

  “Alright,” Ariel said, spinning gently in her chair until she faced Holly’s monitors. “Let’s get you officially plugged into the chaos.”

  Holly opened the Willowbound laptop, the screen flickering to life. It already felt exciting just seeing her name on the welcome screen, to realize this wasn’t borrowed tech or a loaner, but hers, waiting to be filled with all her ideas.

  Ariel guided her through the onboarding with practiced ease, the quiet confidence of someone who’d spent years making these systems make sense. “Okay, so first thing’s first: Slack. That’s how most of the studio communicates. Everything from project announcements to birthday memes and random coffee photos.”

  Holly grinned as she watched the channels load in rapid succession: #press-announcements, #community-hype, #memes, #wispwood-devlog, #kitchen-chaos, and the all-important #pets channel (which, Ariel confessed, was 90 percent the real reason she checked Slack on weekends). They set up Holly’s profile picture (her badge photo; all nervous joy) and updated her bio:

  PR Manager. Cozy gamer. Snack fairy. Here to make you look good, and maybe tweet about it.

  “Sharepoint next,” Ariel said, clicking into the cloud directory. “It’s our file system—press releases, art assets, all the old campaign docs. You’ll have your own PR folder, but you’re free to explore. If you get lost, just search ‘Snack Inventory 2024’—it’s where everyone eventually lands.”

  Holly navigated the tabs with wide-eyed fascination, pausing to peek at past event photos and old blog drafts, the bones of past launches all still there, layered with inside jokes and milestone stickers. “I feel like I’m rifling through someone’s memory box,” she said, smiling at the history woven through every file.

  Ariel laughed. “Honestly, you kind of are. The press kit folder is sacred ground. Also, you’ll get random notifications from the producer asking for, like, a PDF of last year’s merch guide on two minutes’ notice. Welcome to PR.”

  They kept going, Ariel walking Holly through the social calendar, showing her how to schedule posts and manage the studio’s community Discord. Even introducing her to the template the last PR manager used for media contacts. “You can do things your own way, but I figured you might want a jumping off point.”

  Holly nodded, soaking it all in, jotting quick notes in a pastel spiral notebook. Every new login and tool felt like an invitation; each window a little door to another part of the studio’s story. Ariel’s support made it feel manageable, even fun, and Holly already felt the urge to add her own spark: a spreadsheet color-coded by emoji, a folder of inspirational gifs, maybe a #secret-coffee-club Slack channel.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  By mid-morning, Holly had sent her first Slack hello, already fielded three welcome memes, and joined the PR & Community Management Teams call on video. She sipped her coffee and grinned across the caddy-corner at Ariel, who was busy checking emails but kept glancing up, eyes warm with pride and a kind of giddy, grounded joy.

  Holly was mid-scroll through Slack, half-reading a thread in #community-hype about someone’s cat photobombing a game screenshot, when a new email pinged in her inbox.

  From: Community Relations Team

  Subject: Fan Q&A – Pending Review

  She clicked it open and saw a neatly formatted message thanking her for stepping into the PR role, followed by a spreadsheet attachment. Her stomach did a little somersault.

  The moment she double-clicked the file, rows upon rows of color-coded questions filled the screen. Some were simple and sweet: “Will there be fishing in other biomes?” or “Can Mossy wear a scarf?”. But others were deep in the weeds: “Will NPC romance options have locked story beats post-Act 2?” “Is the crafting tree finalized for enchanted carpentry recipes?” Holly’s eyes widened. She didn’t even know what half of those words strung together meant yet.

  She sat back in her chair and chewed her lip, reading a question about questline branching in the desert biome. “Oh no… I’m definitely not supposed to guess at any of this,” she murmured under her breath.

  A faint whirr behind her, then the soft scrape of rolling wheels. Ariel’s chair eased up alongside her desk. “That’s either your ‘I’m in trouble’ or your ‘staring at something terrifying’ face,” Ariel teased, leaning slightly to see the screen.

  Holly exhaled, relieved. “The community team sent me a whole list of fan questions, and I think maybe… three of them are about things I can safely answer. The rest are like… game wizard-level stuff.”

  Ariel smiled, eyes already scanning the spreadsheet. “Okay, first rule of PR: if you don’t know, don’t guess. But, lucky for you…” She tapped the desk lightly. “You’ve got me. Let’s go through them together.”

  They started at the top, Ariel reading each one aloud, sometimes chuckling when she recognized a returning fan’s username in the notes column.

  “Fishing in other biomes? Yes, but don’t spoil the specifics. Just confirm it’s in the works.” She dictated while Holly typed into a new ‘Response’ column, careful to keep the language warm but vague.

  “Can Mossy wear a scarf?” Ariel’s grin widened. “Absolutely, yes. That one’s safe. You can even tease that there might be seasonal outfits for companions.”

  Some questions Ariel shut down quickly. Anything about unreleased story beats or mechanics still in prototype got a gentle but firm, “We’ll share more closer to release” placeholder. Others, she helped Holly reframe into fun hints or community engagement opportunities.

  They settled into a comfortable rhythm, Ariel sipping her coffee between explanations, Holly occasionally leaning her head on her hand as she typed, listening closely.

  After about half an hour, they were halfway down the sheet. Holly sat back and smiled. “You know, this is actually kind of fun once I’m not panicking.”

  Ariel’s voice softened. “That’s because you’re not just answering questions. You’re talking to people who love what we’re making. You’re building that bridge.”

  Holly looked at her for a moment, warmth pooling in her chest. “You’re really good at making things feel less scary, you know that?”

  Ariel shrugged, but her smile gave her away. “I’m just good at keeping you from hiding under your desk.”

  They both laughed, then leaned back toward the monitor, the cursor blinking over the next question, ready to keep going, together.

  Ariel was deep in a line-by-line review of freshly submitted code when a light knock sounded on the office door. Without glancing up, she waved a hand toward it. “Come in.”

  The door opened, and Abigail stepped inside, her heels soft against the carpet. She paused just a few steps in, taking in the sight before her—Ariel perched forward in her chair, eyes narrowed at her dual monitors, and Holly sitting at her own desk, posture relaxed but focused, scrolling through a set of files. A wide smile tugged at Abigail’s lips.

  “Well,” she began warmly, “how’s my newest hire settling in?”

  Holly turned in her chair, beaming. “Honestly? It’s been great. I got to meet so many of the devs, artists, and designers today—everyone’s been ridiculously welcoming. Ariel helped me get my accounts and applications set up, walked me through Slack and SharePoint, and we even tackled the community questions list together.”

  Abigail tilted her head, clearly pleased. “That’s a solid first day already.”

  Holly nodded. “And for the last couple hours, I’ve been reviewing the press kits. I wanted to get familiar with how everything’s been presented so far before I start drafting anything new.” She gave a little shrug, but her eyes were bright. “It’s… a lot of work, but the fun kind.”

  Abigail’s gaze flicked between the two of them, her smile deepening, like she was tucking the moment away for later. “That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.” She stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on Holly’s desk. “Keep that energy. It’s going to serve you really well here.”

  Ariel finally glanced over from her monitor, offering a quick grin before returning to her code, the quiet satisfaction in her expression making it clear she’d been listening the whole time.

  The late afternoon sky had begun its slow fade toward evening, soft gray clouds reflecting the city lights as Ariel and Holly stepped out of the building. The rush of traffic and the chill of Seattle’s early evening air hit them at once. They stopped just outside, neither saying a word, both smiling as if they’d shared some silent joke.

  For several long seconds, they just looked at each other, taking in the fact that this was real: day one, together, done. Then, as if on cue, both broke into cheerful, unrestrained laughter.

  “I can’t believe you already have a fan club on the 18th floor,” Ariel said once she caught her breath, tucking her scarf closer around her neck.

  “Oh please,” Holly replied, waving her hand dismissively. “They just wanted to see if you were exaggerating about me.” She gave Ariel a little sideways grin. “Turns out, you undersold it.”

  Ariel raised an eyebrow. “Undersold? You got more hugs than I get in a whole quarter.”

  “That’s because you glare when people get within hugging range,” Holly teased. “I, on the other hand, have approachable energy.”

  They set off down the sidewalk, weaving through the small evening crowd, the city buzzing around them. Ariel shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Approachable energy, huh? Is that what you’re calling it now?”

  “That,” Holly said, bumping her shoulder lightly against Ariel’s, “and devastating charm. It’s a dangerous combo.”

  They meandered aimlessly for a while, just letting the conversation drift from office gossip to the weirdest things they’d overheard in Slack. It was Holly who stopped mid-stride first, pointing with sudden enthusiasm. “Oh my God. Taco truck.”

  Ariel followed her gaze. Sure enough, parked on the corner was a brightly painted truck, the smell of grilled meat and warm tortillas wafting across the sidewalk. Without even discussing it, they headed straight for it.

  The menu was a colorful explosion of options, and they didn’t hold back—al pastor, carnitas, carne asada, grilled shrimp, and a handful of vegetarian tacos just because they couldn’t decide. Holly grinned at the size of the order as they waited, hands jammed in her coat pockets for warmth.

  When their paper bags were finally handed over, fragrant and warm, they carried them to a nearby bench under a streetlamp. The light caught faint curls of steam rising from the food.

  Ariel unwrapped her first taco and sighed happily at the smell. “If anyone asks, this is the perfect post-work nutrition plan.”

  Holly bit into hers and nodded seriously. “As your PR Manager, I fully endorse this message.”

  They fell into that easy rhythm they had—eating, talking, and laughing between bites. They swapped tacos back and forth to taste each other’s picks, Holly occasionally slipping one into Ariel’s hand without asking, Ariel smirking but accepting every time.

  “This,” Holly said after a while, wiping salsa from the corner of her mouth, “is how every workday should end.”

  Ariel gave a slow nod, licking a bit of lime juice from her fingers. “Careful. If you set the bar this high, you’re going to have to keep it up.”

  Holly’s grin was mischievous in the glow of the streetlamp. “Oh, Red… you have no idea how high I can set it.”

  They laughed again, the warmth of food and each other making the cool evening feel far less biting.