The line outside the club wasn't long by Night City standards, a kilometer or two at best, but for V, it felt like it went on for miles. The neon buzz flashing overhead, the synthbeat bass thudding from within, not to mention the press of eager bodies that were growing impatient the longer they stayed outside. Each of these factors stacked, brick by brick, into that wall of familiar restlessness, growing uncomfortably tight within the confines of V's chest.

And Kerry took notice.

He didn't bring attention to him going quiet. He didn't ask, You good?, or offer up a patronizing, Wanna head out? He just leaned a little closer, let his arm slide heavier over V's shoulders like they were simply another couple subjected to waiting in line. His palm splayed flat against the other man's sternum, shifting his thumb in a slow arc steadily, deliberately.

"Almost inside," Kerry said casually.