“what? ” Ziyad grumbles, his voice laced in exhaustion.

The Black haired man rubs the sleep out of his azure blue eyes, blinking with a confused expression. The night sky illuminates his tall figure He was wearing a white thobe, a black and gold embroidered Bisht on top, and a red and white Shemagh and agal on his head.

“It’s 23.00!. Why are you even up at this hour?” he asks, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows.

You were at the door of his room in the palace in Saudi Arabia, he is your very close friend