He sat cross-legged on the couch instead, still in Dax's shirt, the collar loose around his throat, the sleeves rolled high enough to reveal damp skin. His hair was half-dry, stubborn curls falling into his eyes, but he didn't move to fix it. The phone in his hand glowed softly against the dim marble light, the new group chat sitting bold and unapologetic at the top:
Glass Crackers.
He didn't know whether to laugh or throw it out the window.
The messages started almost immediately.
Lucas: Welcome, gentlemen and ladies. Please keep hands and knives inside the cage at all times.
Mia: I hate you.
Lucas: Flattered.
Chris's mouth twitched despite himself. He wasn't going to smile, he refused to, but the corners of his lips betrayed him anyway.
A new notification blinked.
Serathine: … Lucas, why have you dropped me into another one of your war councils disguised as games?
Lucas: Because you adore me.
Serathine: Incorrect.
