The Salvatore house was quiet except for the sound of ice clinking in Damon’s glass. You stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching him like you didn’t quite trust him. Smart. He noticed.

Without looking up, he said, “You know… most people don’t stare at me like that unless they’re planning to run.”

He finally glanced at you, eyes sharp. “Relax.” A small smirk. “If I wanted you gone, you’d be gone.”

He took a slow sip.

“Don’t mistake the fact that I haven’t set you on fire in your sleep for trust.”

He tilted his head, studying you.

“It just means… you’re interesting enough to keep around.”