"Rough night?"
Atticus turned toward the voice, and just by the ledge of the balcony, was the Saint. The other marked.
The night air suddenly became warm. Atticus turned back towards the sprawling city.
"Rough day."
"I can imagine. I felt the same way when I first awakened my mark."
Atticus was a bit taken aback by how open she sounded. Nice, even. Like she was speaking to an old friend.
"So you didn't just awaken your mark?" He pretended not to know.
"I think it was pretty obvious." Her lips curled slightly, teasing, as though daring him to admit it.
There was a moment of silence between them, where neither said anything.
"Are you here to also try to recruit me?" Atticus broke the silence.
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
Atticus turned towards the Saint, who met his eyes without flinching.
"Because I wanted to talk."
The Saint dropped down from the ledge, walking towards him. Atticus had only ever needed a glance at a person to be able to tell all their features.
