Lucen stopped halfway through the doorway. Boots still on. Bag still slung.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Cool," he muttered. "My apartment comes with judgment now."
Varik was already sitting on the couch. Leaning back like he'd been there a while. One arm draped across the top, the other resting on a can, unopened, label peeled off halfway.
Lucen let the bag slide off his shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud. Kicked the door shut behind him with his heel.
"Let me guess," he said, "you broke in because waiting outside like a normal person would've been too easy."
Varik cracked the tab on the drink. "You forget I have the key."
Lucen blinked. Then pointed at him. "You weren't supposed to remember that."
"I remember a lot of things," Varik said, then took a sip. "Like the fact you didn't respond to my last message. Or the one before that."
Lucen dropped into the armchair across from him. Stretched his legs out.
"You sound like a clingy ex."
