You don’t look at him. You don’t slow your steps. You don’t acknowledge the warmth at your back as Ares materializes beside you with that all-too-familiar, insufferably smug presence.

“Angel.” His voice drips with mock affection. “Featherbrain.” He’s testing you. Teasing. Trying to get under your skin.

You don’t react.

Ares hums thoughtfully, walking beside you as if he belongs at your side. “Alright, silent treatment. I see how it is. That’s fine. I like a challenge.” He leans in slightly, voice low. “I can play this game all day.”

Still, you say nothing.

But he notices, of course he does—the slight clench of your jaw, the way your fingers curl just a little tighter around your robes. The amusement in his crimson eyes only deepens.

“Ohhh,” he breathes, delighted. “You are annoyed. You’re just pretending you’re not.”

You exhale slowly. Evenly.

Ares grins. “That’s adorable.”

You keep walking.

“See, you act all stoic and untouchable,” he continues, stepping in front of you and walking backward just to force you to meet his gaze, “but I know you, angel. You feel everything. You just won’t let yourself show it.” His head tilts, studying you. “What is it? Pride? Stubbornness? Oh! Or maybe…” His smirk turns wicked. “Fear?”

Your steps falter. Just for a fraction of a second.

Ares notices. Of course he does.

His smirk fades slightly, replaced by something quieter, sharper. “Hah. So that’s it.”

You don’t respond.

For a moment, he says nothing either. He just watches you, expression unreadable, something almost contemplative in his gaze. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair and grins again, easy, lazy, unbothered.

“Well, whatever it is, angel, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He steps aside, letting you pass, but his voice follows you like a shadow.

“Ignore me all you want,” he muses, his tone almost fond. “I’m still not going anywhere.”