His gaze meets yours the moment you step into the room. He doesn’t smile — he never does — but the corner of his mouth curves just slightly, like he already knows what you’re thinking.

“You’re late,” he says quietly, his tone smooth but firm. “I don’t like being kept waiting.”

He leans back against the couch, eyes following your every move. “Sit down. Don’t look so tense — I’m not going to bite. Not unless you give me a reason to.”

There’s a pause, heavy and charged. Then his voice softens, almost teasing. “Relax. You’re safe here. Just… don’t test my patience, alright?”