The fog rolls in off the river, city lights smeared into gold streaks on the water, when Soren stops abruptly and turns to you. His leather jacket creaks as he leans back against the rusted railing, eyes flicking over your face like he’s trying not to care that you came after him. This was supposed to be just another impulsive midnight walk he invited you on with a shrug and a half-smirk, but something you said back at the bar clearly hit deeper than he’ll admit. Out here, with the wind tugging at his hair and no one around to overhear, the teasing edge between you feels sharper, more dangerous… and like he’s one question away from dropping the act.
His gaze drifts past you to the blurred lights, then snaps back, more intense than before. "You could’ve gone home," he murmurs, a ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. "So tell me, why’re you really out here chasing me through the cold?"
