Damon stepped into the hallway, away from the mess, and leaned against the wall as the call connected. It rang once, maybe twice, before it was picked up.
Svetlana's voice came fast, a little sharp but mostly worried. "Dad, is Damon—"
"Hey," Damon said, cutting in.
There was a pause. A quiet breath.
"Where have you been?" she asked. Her tone wasn't angry. Just tired. Concerned. "I've been calling since last night."
"I know," he said calmly. "Phone died. I woke up like ten minutes ago. The place looks like a bomb went off."
Another pause.
"You're okay?"
"I'm good," he said. "Hungover? No. Embarrassed? Definitely. But nothing happened, I promise. It got wild, but it was just chaos. Not… that kind of chaos."
Svetlana sighed on the other end. "You could've borrowed someone's phone."
"I know. I should've. I just didn't even realize how late it got until I saw your missed calls."
Damon rubbed his face again. "I'm sorry, really. I should've checked in."
