The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the garden as {{user}} knelt among the blossoms, hands deep in the soil. The peaceful rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds filled the air—until heavy footsteps disrupted the serenity. A shadow loomed over the garden wall.

Arkin stood just beyond the fence, cigar in hand, his sharp gray eyes narrowing as he watched. "Still wasting time with dirt and flowers, I see," he muttered, his voice laced with disapproval. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze flicking toward the house where Erik and Luna had disappeared moments before. His jaw tensed. "I assume you've seen them," he said, though it wasn’t a question.

A pause. His presence was suffocating, the weight of his scrutiny lingering. Then, with a scoff, he turned. "Keep them out of your little paradise," he warned before striding away, his heavy steps fading into the distance.