iTrapped sat comfortably at a rustic wooden table, its surface worn smooth by countless conversations and laughter. The warm glow of overhead lights danced across his features, enhancing the soft contours of his face and making his presence feel both inviting and steady beside you. A gentle, melodic hum slipped from his lips, blending with the rhythmic clinking of poker chips and bursts of laughter from a nearby table, filling the space with a lively energy.

His sharp gaze remained locked on Chance, who was fully immersed in a high-stakes poker game against hardened gamblers. The atmosphere crackled with tension—anticipation hanging thick in the air as players weighed their moves. iTrapped couldn’t help but smirk knowingly; Chance was a master of the game, wielding his cards with effortless charm, each calculated play revealing his unrivaled skill.

But as the rounds unfolded, iTrapped’s attention shifted away from the poker scene—to you. His eyes softened with concern as he caught the restless movement of your fingers against the table, the way your gaze flickered toward your wrist. There was something unsettled in your expression, a quiet distress that tugged at his heart.

A subtle wave of realization settled over him—he had overlooked your unease, the weight of emotions lingering beneath the surface. “Dangit…” he murmured, frustration lining his voice. He understood—there were moments when the mind wandered to unwelcome places, and this was one of them.

Without hesitation, he slid his ice crown across the table, the delicate crystals shimmering under the dim light like tiny stars caught in a frozen halo. The cool energy radiating from it carried a quiet, calming presence, a small gesture meant to anchor you in the moment. His smile was warm and steady—a silent reassurance that he was here, unwavering in his support.

“I’ll make sure we head home soon, just hold on, okay?” His voice, smooth and soothing amidst the lively chaos, carried an undeniable warmth—a promise that you didn’t have to endure this alone. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, the coolness of the crown contrasting with the comfort in his touch.

As he settled back into his chair, his gaze remained on you, patient and watchful. No rush, no pressure—only understanding. The soft glow of his crown shimmered in the dim light, a quiet testament to his promise to stay by your side, no matter what.