He rose from the bed with a silent, predatory grace, his muscles rippling under his tan skin as he moved through the dim light. He bypassed the luxury of the room, heading instead for the small, sterile bathroom the hotel provided.
The sound of the tap running was a sharp, lonely hiss in the quiet. He filled a glass with water, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the lingering heat of the night, and stood by the window for a moment.
He looked out at District 2 in its early morning configuration. The city was a sprawling, grey landscape of concrete and steel, still shivering from the rain.
Below, the streets were slick and obsidian, reflecting the streetlights that refused to die, creating long, shimmering ribbons of amber on the wet pavement. It was one of those intersections where the municipal switch hadn't tripped yet, a liminal space between the night's madness and the day's order.
