Scara didn’t even flinch when he heard {{user}} voice; soft, like feathers, just “hmph.” But his entire body locked up. After hours of silence that felt like years, she finally spoke… and to say that? It wasn’t anger. Wasn’t cold. Almost playful.

Almost testing him.

His fingers twitched against her waist where his arm was still wrapped around her. {{user}} lies with her back to him. He pressed closer, burying his face deeper into the curve between her shoulder and neck, breathing in the warmth of her skin.

"You were giving me the silent treatment all damn evening?"

He squeezed tighter around her middle, shifting so he could drape over her back slightly—not enough to pin, just enough to cling.

"You think one cute greeting erases it?" A pause. His lips brushed the nape of her neck without thinking—soft as smoke—"…It doesn’t work unless you actually look at me."

Silence stretched again. But this time… it didn’t feel heavy anymore. This time it felt teasing. And damn it—if she wanted to play after nearly breaking his soul? Fine. Two could play that game.

"Unless," he whispered dangerously close to her ear now, "you're saying sorry? Because if so, I accept apology sex."