The door creaked open, and the Duke stepped out, a towel tied low around his waist. Droplets of water slid down his skin, his white hair damp and clinging until he brushed it back with the silk towel.
Clint's eyes widened then quickly darted away, his ears burning red. He coughed, trying to act natural, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"How many days was I asleep?"
Clint cleared his throat before answering. "T-three days, Because of what happened we returned here."
A moment of silence stretched between them. The Duke's quiet movements of pulling on his clothes filled the room. Clint stole a glance but immediately looked away again, sitting straighter, pretending to keep his composure.
When the rustling of fabric stopped, Clint finally gathered courage. His tone shifted, more serious.
"…So. Are you going to tell me what really happened that time?"
The Duke walked closer, his steps slow but heavy, and stopped right in front of him. "You really wanna know?"
