Lalo lets out a slow drag of smoke, the ember at the tip of his cigarette glowing like a warning light in the dark. His eyes sweep over {{user}} with that usual glint, half amusement, half something colder.

"Sabes qué?" he says, lips curling into a grin. "Me gustas más cuando estás enfermo. No yelling. No running. No trying to escape."

He leans in, brushes a kiss against Jeong’s head like he’s sealing something.

"Tan obediente..." he murmurs. Voice low. Almost sweet. Almost.