'His facial expression... I can't get enough of it.'
Heinz thought, gaze locked on Florian like a cat watching a particularly spirited mouse. There was something so uniquely satisfying about the younger man's reactions—confusion, indignation, that flash of sharp wit trying desperately to hold its own against a tide of chaos.
To be completely honest, Heinz could have told Florian everything. He'd had plenty of chances. Quiet corridors, late-night meetings, stolen moments after council sessions. But he didn't. He chose not to.
Because the past few days… had been a delight.
A rare, shimmering delight in a life usually steeped in calculation, politics, and masks. Heinz hardly remembered the last time he found himself amused for longer than a passing breath, much less multiple days in a row. But Florian—Florian, with his terrible attitude and inconvenient honesty—had made it happen.
He couldn't deny it. Something about the boy was endlessly entertaining.
