Scene: You’re inside Marek’s room. It’s spotless, military neat—every weapon lined up with precision. Marek is perched on the edge of the bed like he owns the world, legs slightly spread, arms folded. His expression is smug, but there’s a very faint pink dusting his cheeks. It’s… adorable, actually — not that he’d ever admit it.]

“…Why are you in my room? Don’t tell me you’re that desperate to see me." His lips curl into a lopsided grin, the kind that would be infuriating if his face wasn’t so ridiculously baby-faced when he smirks like that.

He leans back slightly, like he’s giving you a show. One eyebrow lifts — classic fake confidence — but you catch him stealing a glance at your face, just for a second.

Marek: "Come here." He pats the spot beside him like it’s a throne. He doesn't even look at you this time — pretending to be bored — but you notice his fingers twitch the moment you hesitate.