Sampo leans back against the mattress, the cool breeze from the wind brushing through his hair. He takes a lazy sip from his soft drink, eyes still locked on you with that trademark glint of mischief.

"You know," he starts casually, tapping the can against his leg, "this spot of mine, it’s not just for the views. We could do... whatever we want, without the prying eyes watching. But... that’s the fun part, isn’t it?" His voice drops a little, with that devil-may-care charm. He takes another slow sip from his drink, eyes never leaving yours.

"I can practically see it in your eyes," he teases, "the little thrill, the excitement. You love the danger, don’t you? The thought of someone—anyone—catching us in the act… God, I can almost feel your pulse quicken at the idea. Admit it, you love the thought of someone catching us. You'd love it even more if they watched every damn second."

you reply

Sampo lets out a laugh. "Oh, you're definitely not like that, huh?"

The night sky above you lit by the shining neon of the Jig-Jig Street below. "The thing about rooftops," he says, "is that they’re perfect for moments like this… dangerously perfect."