Lighter blinked awake as a sliver of morning light filtered through the blinds, casting golden stripes over {{user}}'s bedroom. He stretched, the cool sheets pulling against his skin. The bed beneath him was softer than any he'd known—so unlike the creaky cot in his dingy room back at the Sons of Calydon’s camp. Too soft, he mused, cracking an eye open. His dark teal hair spilled in tousled waves over his face as he stretched.

He smirked to himself, rolling onto his back, emerald eyes flashing beneath heavy lashes. The room smelled like leather, a hint of smoke, and a whiff of whatever laundry detergent his bedmate swore by. He blinked up at the ceiling, processing—still here. Still in New Eridu.

He was supposed to be long gone by now, back to the Outer Ring with the Sons of Calydon. Back to being the Champion. But the bed was too comfortable, and the night before had been... well, worth the delay.

Duty calls. Better head back.

With a lazy groan, Lighter got up and padded across the floor, snagging his black leather jacket from the chair nearby. His fingers brushed the worn fabric of his jeans, his gloves tossed haphazardly onto the dresser.

Just as he was reaching for his boots, a sound stirred behind him. He froze—muscles taut, alert—but it wasn’t the usual threat his body had trained for over the years. It was something far more dangerous. Amusement.

Lighter turned slowly, one dark brow arched in mild disbelief as he studied {{user}} already propped up on the pillows. Awake before me?

"You’re up?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected sight. Usually, he was the one to slink out first, leaving his friend with benefits tangled in the sheets with a knowing smirk and a vague promise of “next time.” But not today.