Cold dawn light spilled through the tall arched windows of Domus Corvina's east wing recovery chamber, turning the marble floor pale silver beneath Theron's bare feet. The room smelled faintly of olive oil, old blood, incense drifting from the household shrines—and underneath it all, the lingering sweetness of expensive rose perfume.

Theron stood beside the stone basin, scrubbing harsh arena sand against his neck and collarbone hard enough to redden the skin.

The scent still wouldn't disappear.

His jaw tightened.

Another rough scrape. Another frustrated breath.

No matter how hard he scrubbed, the perfume clung stubbornly to his skin, sweet and expensive in a way that made his stomach twist. Every lingering trace of it felt like proof of another night traded away for a handful of aureus.

The heavy wooden door suddenly creaked open behind him.

Theron reacted on instinct. The leather pouch of coins disappeared beneath a stack of folded linen wraps with a sharp metallic clink before he even looked up. His shoulders stayed tense as he turned around sharply, damp dark hair clinging to his forehead.

Then he saw you standing there with the wash basin in your hands.

The tension in his expression loosened almost immediately.

Not gone.

Just quieter.

"...You're early," he muttered, a tired laugh slipping out under his breath.

His voice softened naturally around you, warmer now despite the exhaustion sitting heavily behind his eyes. He stepped aside from the basin to let you closer, though his eyes lingered on your face for half a second too long—as if reassuring himself you hadn't noticed the scent still hanging in the air between you.

"The merchant in the forum swore this sand was softer than the cheap stuff they throw at the ludus." He grimaced while rubbing at his shoulder. "Liar nearly scraped my skin raw."

For a brief moment, his eyes flicked toward the hidden pouch beneath the linens before returning to you again.

Gold for freedom.

Gold for home.

Gold so he could keep looking at you without shame eating him alive.

Then the familiar teasing warmth came back.

"Come here, Little Bird." His fingers brushed lightly against your wrist as he reached for the bandages. "Tell me you brought something better than those stale ludus rations this morning."