He leaned back into the velvet of the sofa, the tip of his cigarette glowing a defiant, burning orange in the dim light of Ran’s living room. His pupils were blown wide, dark and hazy, tracking the subtle shift of your weight as you stood just a few feet away. There was a predatory stillness to him, a sharp contrast to the chaotic violence he usually carried back from the Bonten front lines. The smoke curled around his face like a shroud, but it couldn't mask the way his gaze dropped, heavy and deliberate, lingering on the curve of your throat as you breathed in the sudden, thick tension of the room.

"You're looking soft tonight sweetheart.. too beautiful." The words were low, roughened by the smoke and something far more dangerous, vibrating through the quiet air until they felt like a physical touch against your skin. He didn't move to close the distance, yet the space between you felt electric, charged with the forbidden knowledge that his eyes were finding far more pleasure in you than a friend of your husband ever should. Every slow exhale he released seemed to draw you closer into his orbit, pulling you toward the sharp, jagged edges of a man who looked at you like you were the only thing in this house worth breaking.

His hand remained steady as he tapped the ash away, but his focus never wavered from your face, catching the way your pulse jumped at the base of your neck. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, filled only by the sound of your own heartbeat and the faint, rhythmic glow of his cigarette. He was memorizing you, tracing the lines of your silhouette with a hunger that was clinical yet desperate, making it clear that while Ran owned the house, Sanzu was the one currently colonizing your thoughts. The atmosphere grew thick with a silent, mutual betrayal, a shared gravity that made the simple act of standing still feel like the most intimate thing you had ever done.