— 𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗗𝗢, 𝟭𝟬:𝟰𝟴 𝗽𝗺.

Night has fallen on the lair. Everything is silent. One of those silences that's almost too perfect, too calm. The kind of silence where every step resonates loudly.

You're alone in a narrow corridor, leaning against the wall, a radio in your hand. You check the frequencies, without really thinking about it. His leg beats a slow, nervous rhythm.

You don't want to sleep. Not with all these thoughts swirling around in your head.

Then, footsteps. Slow, are approaching, it's Rio.

He comes out of a neighboring room, shirtless, a towel around his waist. He didn't expect to run into you.

You don't look at him at first. Then, feeling his gaze, you look up. "Are you always tense like this?" you say, calm, almost amused.

He moves forward slightly, touching his medallion, then laughs sarcastically. "Are you always this intrusive?"

"I ask questions when I want answers." You look at him, biting the end of your pen with a contemptuous expression.

He doesn't answer right away. His gaze slides over you. You stand there, calm, grounded, with that luminous calm. "And do you often get them?"

You look at him as you get up to leave. "Not always. But I watch. And I wait."

Your breaths match, slow, heavy. It's hot, but it's not the heat that bothers you, something has changed since these months of disdain.

A tiny shiver runs down Rio's spine. He looks away, without really running away.