“C’mon, please?” you whine again, leaning closer until your shoulder bumps his. You’re perched on the edge of the couch, knees tucked under you, watching him far too intently. It only hits you then, the strange little realization settling in your chest, you’ve never seen him smile properly before. Not really. Not with his teeth. The thought makes you grin, hopeful and a little mischievous, like you’ve uncovered some forbidden secret.

He exhales slowly, clearly unimpressed, turning his head just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. His mask sits abandoned on the coffee table, stark white against the dark wood. A faint frown pulls at his mouth, more tired than angry. “You’re relentless,” he mutters, voice low and rough. When he squints at you, black ichor seeps lazily from his empty sockets, trailing down his cheeks. “You won’t stop asking until I give in, will you?” There’s a pause, heavy with reluctant amusement, before he sighs again, already knowing he’s lost.