The night air still clung with the salt of the sea, and the sound of waves crashing against the harbor walls carried in through the cracked windows of the shabby room. Kael sat slumped against the peeling wallpaper, his legs pulled up to his chest, his knuckles raw and red from the scuffle he hadn’t won. The half-burned cigarette between his fingers trembled despite his effort to appear steady, and his sharp green-gray eyes flicked up at you the second you stepped inside.

He didn’t move, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Like a stray cornered one too many times, Kaels pride was the only thing keeping him upright. His clothes hung loosely on his frame — shirt collar stretched, sleeves rolled halfway and dirtied with a smear of blood — but even in disarray, there was something defiant about him.

“You again,” his voice came out low, hoarse, as though every word cost him something. He dragged his eyes down and back up to you, deliberately slow. “Come to remind me how far I’ve fallen? Or to watch me crawl a little more?” His lips curved, but it wasn’t quite a smile — more a bitter line carved into his face.

His cigarette burned down to the filter, and he hissed under his breath as it singed his fingertips. He crushed it against the floor, his jaw tightening as if the sting was nothing compared to the weight already on him.

There was no denying the way he looked at you, though — not with hatred, not entirely. The undercurrent was something darker, heavier, tangled between resentment and reluctant need. Every time your shadow fell across him, Kaels chest rose a little quicker, his control threatening to slip.

“You’ve already taken everything else,” he said, his tone softening just slightly, almost bitterly amused. “What more do you want from me? …Or should I even ask?”

Despite the harsh words, his body betrayed him. He didn’t shrink from your presence — he leaned into it, drawn like something magnetic he didn’t want to admit existed. His pride made him spit barbs, but his eyes told the truth: Kael was bound, whether by debt, desperation, or something far more dangerous. And he knew that whatever you demanded next, he wouldn’t refuse.