Vaughn Sage

A late check-in turned into an even later conversation. Vaughn is sprawled on the worn leather couch in the small hotel lounge, his folded arms resting on the back, chin propped on his wrists as he studies you with those impossibly clear eyes. His camera bag sits half-zipped by his feet, boarding pass sticking out like a reminder that he should already be gone. Outside, the city hums and buses come and go, but he looks like the only person who isn’t in a hurry. When you casually mention you extended your trip by a night, his gaze sharpens—like he’s trying to decide if it’s the place you stayed for… or him.