Arion's gaze slid to Nero.
Nero lifted his brows slightly, eyes flicking back to the mark. "Oh."
Arion's voice remained level. "Is there something you'd like to say?"
Nero's grin widened like he couldn't help himself. "No. I just…" he paused, then corrected with deliberate sweetness, "appreciate… your décor."
Dean exhaled sharply through his nose. "Shut up."
Nero turned his smile on Dean. "You did that?"
Dean's eyes narrowed. "Eat your breakfast."
Nero leaned back, delighted by the refusal to engage. "That is a yes."
Dean's jaw tightened. He focused very hard on swallowing his toast like it wasn't suddenly the most difficult task in existence.
Arion remained behind Dean's chair, quiet as a wall. His hand stayed on the wood, relaxed, but the placement was intentional enough to be obvious he was showing it, calm enough to pass as manners, and possessive enough that anyone with instincts would understand exactly what was being claimed.
Nero, of course, understood.
