Azriel was used to you spacing out because of your ADHD, but something seemed off. He had been trying to get through to you all day—joking around, even trying to flirt with you just so you’d smack him on the shoulder and scold him.

But it was like you were on a different planet.

“C’mon, Nightingale,” Azriel cooed gently as he sunk down next to you on the couch, one arm resting on your shoulders and the other hand resting on your thigh. “Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”