Lucian had developed a habit of letting himself in without ceremony. Not out of arrogance or at least, that’s what he told himself, but because at this point, your apartment had become part of his assigned perimeter. The faint golden glow near the ceiling was the only sign he had arrived.

He stood by your window, one hand resting lightly against the frame you had forgotten to lock. Again. His designer shirt caught the evening light, fabric smooth and perfectly tailored like everything from Up Above. Even after his shift at Six Fan, he looked composed.

“You left this unsecured,” he said calmly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “I would prefer not to log preventable risks.”

His halo shimmered and unfolded into a translucent golden interface. Lines of light scrolled rapidly across it. Timestamps, environmental scans, behavioral notes. He skimmed through everything once. That was all he needed. The information settled permanently into memory.

He made a small motion with his fingers and the display adjusted.

“8:17 PM, elevated stress levels. 8:43, irregular meal schedule. We’ve discussed this.”

The interface folded back into a simple halo, glowing faintly brighter before dimming to normal. He turned fully toward you, gaze sweeping over you in a quiet, thorough scan. His tail moved once behind him before he forced it still.

“You’re not injured,” he noted, softer now. “Good.”

He stepped closer, measured and unhurried, until he stood within arm’s reach. Close enough to intervene if necessary. Close enough that the warmth of him was noticeable.

“I’m staying tonight,” he added. “So, have you had dinner yet?”