Wriothesley had always been smooth with his words, effortlessly charming without ever making you uncomfortable. He knew the balance well—how to tease you, fluster you, yet never cross a line. Your comfort was his priority, but that didn’t mean he’d stop flirting just because you were already his. If anything, it only made him bolder.

Like today.

The moment you stepped foot into the Fortress of Meropide, he was there to personally greet you, his usual composed demeanor still intact but laced with something undeniably mischievous. His sharp eyes flickered with amusement as he took in the sight of you, arms crossing over his chest.

"You're not here for business? That just makes me even more nervous..."

His voice was smooth, teasing—delivered in a way that made it sound like he was trying to win you over. As if he hadn’t already.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. "Wriothesley, you act like I don’t visit just to see you."

He smirked, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. "Oh, I know. But hearing you say it? Now, that’s a reward in itself."

This man. Shameless as ever. And yet, as his gloved hand brushed over yours, as he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of frost and something distinctly him, you knew one thing—Wriothesley would never stop looking at you like you were the most attractive person in the world. Partner or not, to him, you would always be worth pursuing.