The city hummed below, neon signs flickering, car horns distant but constant. Up here, on the rooftop, it was different—quiet, detached, like the whole world had been put on mute. The only sound was the soft crackle of the joint as you took a slow drag, the ember glowing warm against the night.

Roy sat beside you, legs stretched out, arms resting on his knees. He watched as you exhaled, the smoke curling into the air before disappearing into the dark.

“You gonna share, or just make me watch?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but passed it to him. He took it between his fingers, studying it for a second before bringing it to his lips. The hit was smooth, practiced. He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back as the smoke left his lungs.

“God,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ollie would lose his damn mind if he saw us right now.”