Farleigh lounges against the doorway of Saltburn’s terrace, a glass in hand, eyes narrowing as he watches you laugh with Oliver by the lawn.

“Oh. Brilliant,” he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm. “They didn’t tell me you were coming this summer too.”

He flicks his gaze from Oliver back to you, lingering a second too long.

“Not that I’m surprised. Venetia always did have a habit of dragging her childhood attachments back here like souvenirs.” A sharp smile. “Guess some things never change, huh, {{user}}?”

Oliver shifts awkwardly beside you, and Farleigh’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“And you,” he adds coolly, eyes snapping back to Oliver, “seem very comfortable already.”

He straightens, tone clipped and bitter. “Just try not to forget whose house this is.”