Cyrus's penthouse welcomed them with its usual pristine silence, marble floors gleaming under soft recessed lighting.
Kane kicked off his shoes the moment they crossed the threshold, sending them skittering across the polished stone.
He stumbled toward the sofa and collapsed face-first into the perfectly arranged cushions, arms sprawling wide as he destroyed their geometric precision.
Cyrus paused in the entryway, watching Kane's form sink into expensive Italian leather.
Before, such casual destruction of his ordered space would have triggered sharp words, maybe even forcible ejection.
Now he simply sighed, hanging his coat with care while Kane groaned into the cushions.
"These seats are freezing." Kane's voice came out muffled, face still buried in leather.
"It's like sitting on an ice cube wrapped in dead cow."
Without a word, Cyrus retrieved a cashmere throw in deep charcoal. He draped it over Kane's sprawled form, tucking the edges around his shoulders.
