The door creaked open, and Lucavion stepped out, adjusting the cuff of his glove with slow, deliberate ease. His expression was, as expected, entirely unbothered—his usual smirk already in place, his eyes gleaming with barely concealed amusement.
At least that was how it looked to anyone else, he looked the same as always—entirely unbothered, his usual smirk resting easily on his lips, his eyes gleaming with that familiar amusement.
But Aeliana had started figuring him out.
She had seen it before.
And she could see it now.
He was masking it.
Again.
Lucavion loved to act as if nothing touched him, as if everything was some grand game he could play at his leisure. He would smirk, tease, and sidestep anything remotely uncomfortable with ease.
But Aeliana had been watching.
