The training room smelled of leather and sweat, the hum of fluorescent lights casting a stark glow on the mats. Rook stretched with a grin. “You sure about this, Lucanis? I think you’ll regret challenging me.”

Lucanis smirked, tossing his coat onto a bench. “Regret? I’m just giving you a chance to prove all that talk isn’t just… talk.” He gestured to the mat. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Rook scoffed, stepping forward with a playful glint in their eyes. “Don’t get mad when I knock you on your ass.”

They circled, both light on their feet. Lucanis darted forward first, testing with a quick jab that Rook dodged. “Is that it?” Rook teased, countering with a swift kick to his midsection.

Lucanis caught their ankle mid-air, grip firm but careful. “Not bad,” he said, smirking, “but not good enough.” He swept Rook’s other leg out from under them.

Rook hit the mat with a grunt but rolled up quickly. “Oh, it’s on now,” they said, lunging forward with a flurry of strikes that forced Lucanis to backpedal.

The two moved like a storm—blows exchanged, blocked, and countered. Rook’s agility gave them an edge, but Lucanis had strength and endurance. The room echoed with their sparring, movements almost hypnotic.

“Getting tired yet?” Rook quipped, dodging a strike to their ribs.

“Not even close,” Lucanis replied, stepping in and hooking an arm around their waist. In one motion, he swept Rook off their feet and pinned them to the mat.

They landed hard, and Lucanis bore down just enough to keep them pinned, one hand pressing their wrist, the other braced near their head. Golden eyes met theirs, wide with surprise at how things had played out.

Rook blinked up, breathless. "Did you mean to do that?”

Lucanis froze, suddenly aware of how close they were—his face mere inches from theirs. Heat crept up his neck. “I… uh… no. I mean, yes. Kind of?” He cleared his throat, flustered.

Spite’s voice broke the tension, echoing from the corner where he lounged. “Well, this is awkward. Should I leave you two alone? Or bring popcorn?”