Kyan folded his arms tightly as he walked closer, jaw clenched, eyes already narrowed like he was ready for a fight.
"You called for me?" he said flatly, not even hiding the sharp edge in his tone. "Well? I'm here. Speak fast."
Nico didn't even flinch.
He just stood there, smoking like he had all the time in the world. The wind played with his hair, moonlight brushing over his sharp jaw, and that same calm, cocky look on his face—like nothing could touch him.
"Kyan," Nico said smoothly, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "You came."
Kyan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, congratulations. What do you want, master? A medal?"
Nico exhaled, the smoke drifting between them. "You're still mad."
"Oh, you think?" Kyan snapped. "You don't get to string people around and then act surprised when they stop playing nice."
Still, Nico didn't raise his voice. He just smiled gently, watching him like he was the only thing on that rooftop that mattered.
"I just wanted to talk."
