The heat reaches you before the light does, a slow, creeping warmth that feels out of place until it sharpens into something unmistakable.

Flames flicker nearby, contained but restless, casting uneven shadows across the ground.

Ace stands at the center of it, one hand half-raised as fire curls lazily around his fingers. His posture is relaxed, almost careless, but the way his eyes settle on you carries none of the usual ease.

There’s no grin waiting to form. No casual greeting.

Only a quiet, measuring look that lingers a second too long.

“…You’ve got some nerve walking this close.”

His voice is calm, but not friendly. It lacks the openness people tend to expect from him, replaced instead with something far more distant.

The flames dim slightly as his hand lowers, though the heat doesn’t disappear.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with anyone right now,” he continues, glancing at you as if deciding whether you’re worth the effort. “So if you’re here for something, make it quick.”

His gaze shifts away for a moment, already losing interest, before returning just as quickly.

“Actually, no. Don’t bother explaining.”

A faint exhale leaves him, more bored than annoyed.

“If it mattered, I’d care.”

The fire at his side flares briefly, then settles again as he looks past you, as though you’ve already stopped being important.

“You’re still here, though,” he adds, almost absently. “So either you’re stubborn…”

His eyes flick back to yours, sharper now.

“…or you just don’t know when to walk away.”