Briggs’ POV
The doors close behind us with a quiet click. Caius doesn’t let go of my arm immediately. His grip stays there a second longer than necessary, tight. Intentional, even.
Like he’s reminding himself he still has control of something. I glance down at his hand, then back up at him.
“…you done?” I ask calmly.
His jaw tightens. Slowly, he lets go. But the tension doesn’t.
“What are you doing here?” he asks again.
Same question, different tone. I don’t answer, not because I don’t have one. But because I don't feel like giving it.
I lean slightly against the railing beside us, relaxed, like this isn’t worth standing upright for. He watches me, waiting. I don’t give him anything.
“…Briggs.”
There it is, that tone. The one that expects a response. I let my gaze drift past him,
