Crimson light flickered once against the paneling of the corridor as Victor moved, his stride measured but silent, every inch of him still holding the echo of the form he had just worn. By the time he reached the door of Elias's study, the smell of imperial iris threaded with Ashwin's faint cologne was already sliding under the threshold.
He pushed the door open without knocking.
Inside, Elias sat in the armchair, one ankle hooked over his knee, a blanket draped carelessly over his lap, and a half-finished mug of coffee on the table. Ashwin sprawled on the sofa like he'd been poured there, boots crossed, a small smirk tugging at his mouth as he flicked through something on his phone with idle thumbs. The low glow of the desk lamp painted them both in warm light, casual, domestic, and too casual for Victor's tastes.
His crimson eyes swept the room once.
Blanket. Coffee. Ashwin.
The muscle in his jaw ticked.
