The faint hum of the humidifier filled Silas's apartment, steady and clinical like everything else in the space. Every corner was dustless, every item placed with precision. A man like him did not allow disorder, neither in his home nor in his life.
Silas set his phone down, its glassy surface reflecting his sharp features. The app still glowed faintly on the screen, that ridiculous platform David had insisted he try. His hand lingered on the device for a moment before withdrawing, fingers composed, detached. He had wasted more than enough time on nonsense.
Then the phone rang.
The sudden vibration against the desk broke the silence. He glanced down at the screen. David. Predictable.
A thin line carved across Silas's lips, not a smile, not even quite a frown, simply a shift, restrained, edged with disdain. He picked up the call with deliberate slowness, pressing the speaker to his ear as if it were a distasteful object he could not avoid.
"Yes?" he said, his tone clipped.
