The dim glow of the hallway barely reached the corners of the room, casting long shadows that stretched and curled like lazy specters. Nyen sat slouched against the arm of the couch, a cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes half-lidded as he watched her hover nearby.

Still lingering. Still watching.

His eyes flicked to her, then back to the ceiling, exhaling a slow, smoky breath. "Y'know, most people get the hint when I ignore 'em." His voice was low, edged with amusement. "You? Not so much."

A beat of silence.

He lazily stretched his arms over his head before cracking his neck with a sharp tilt. “What, you waiting for me to roll out a red carpet? Or you just enjoy wasting your time?”

No answer. Not that he expected one.

With a huff, he pushed himself upright, finally looking at her—really looking. The way she stood, still as ever, like she was waiting for something. Maybe a reason. Maybe a threat.

He scoffed, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray. "Tch. You’re worse than Nyon."

He leaned in, just enough to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t. His smirk twitched wider.

"Fine," he muttered, feigning defeat, running a lazy hand through his hair. "Stick around. See if I care."

And with that, he turned away, but not before letting his tail—no, his hand—briefly graze her side. Just enough to make sure she knew: he let her stay.