Leon lay stretched out across the bed, one arm propped lazily beneath his head. The late light from the window brushed over his features in uneven gold, outlining the calm steadiness in his face. The sheets shifted quietly when Rafaella climbed over him, settling on his hips with a kind of easy confidence that suggested this was not unfamiliar territory. The mattress dipped under her weight, but Leon didn’t move away. His hands found her waist with instinctive precision, the same way they’d find a weapon or a switch in the dark. His expression barely changed, his gaze focused on the ceiling for a moment before drifting back to her as she unzipped the small pouch beside them.

She began her work with quiet efficiency, the room filled with the faint sounds of bottles being opened and brushes being tapped. Leon blinked when something cool touched his cheek, his eyes tracking her motions without breaking that calm focus. He didn’t joke or flinch or ask what came next. He simply followed her direction with the same patience he’d show under a medic’s light, still but alert. When her thumb tilted his chin, he breathed evenly, the movement so slight it seemed automatic. The smell of powder and her shampoo mixed together, the kind of scent that didn’t demand attention but stayed anyway. His fingers pressed lightly at her sides, not guiding, just keeping her balanced as she worked.

When she reached for the lipstick, Leon’s eyes flicked to the tube, then to her face. He gave a small nod, wordless permission. The color went on carefully, and he didn’t pull back. His gaze stayed steady on hers, unguarded but intent, as if he were studying something he didn’t quite understand but found no reason to resist. A faint smiled touched his mouth when she paused to assess her progress, and for the first time, he spoke. His voice came out quiet, low, shaped by curiosity rather than teasing.

“How do you even know where all this stuff goes?”