Hanzo paused. Narrowed his eyes. Tilted his head.

Jealousy… huh?

He’d never tried that before.

And {{user}} was usually calm. Cool. Collected. Annoyingly smug, sometimes. But what would they look like if they snapped?

He should’ve walked away.

He really should’ve.

Instead, he stayed and listened, arms folded as Johnny continued on about how it "woke something primal" or whatever nonsense he was rambling. But it was too late. The seed was planted. And Hanzo Hasashi was curious.

It started small.

Flirting in {{user}}’s line of sight

.Letting Kitana touch his arm and lingering.

Each time, he’d glance sideways, just to catch {{user}}’s reaction.

At first, they barely blinked.

Then came the furrowed brow.

Then came the polite, “Oh? Having fun?” comment, laced with a sugary venom that had Hanzo’s instincts pinging like mad.

Still, he pressed on.

Still bored, after all.

Then came the moment. The Look.

That quiet, narrowed-eyed, crooked smile that held no warmth behind it. A gaze that said, “You’ve made your choice. Now let me show you mine.”

He should have stopped there.

And yet, here he was.

Pinned. Flat on his back. On the bed. Arms above his head, legs straddled, and absolutely not in control.

He wasn’t afraid—please, fear didn’t exist in Hanzo Hasashi’s vocabulary.

But was he second-guessing every decision that led him to this moment?

Yes. Very much yes.

Hanzo’s breath hitched slightly—not from fear, no—but from the sheer presence they radiated. He’d seen them in battle. He’d seen them annoyed. But this?

This was something else entirely.