Zayn blinked, processing.
That was not what he expected.
"You have work to do," he repeated flatly.
She nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes. Work. The guild doesn't run itself, you know."
There was a pause. Then another. Then —
"Right now?" He squinted at her. "At this very moment?"
She exhaled sharply, visibly flustered, and sidestepped him. "Yes, right now."
He stared at her.
She walked to the door, avoiding his gaze like it physically pained her.
When she reached the handle, she hesitated just for a second — long enough to almost make him think she'd change her mind.
But instead, she gave a small wave, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Goodnight, Zayn," and left.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Zayn stood there in silence, still slightly dazed from the alcohol, still buzzing from the adrenaline and heat.
He stared at the door. Then at his own hands.
Then back at the door.
