Max's mouth twitched, but there was no amusement in it. "It became my problem when you asked me to stop your heat and then tried to pretend the mark was an unfortunate weather event."
Adam's eyes narrowed. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Max asked quietly.
"Don't come here and—" Adam gestured vaguely at the air between them, at the bond he refused to talk about, at the way Max could stand in a hallway and make Adam feel like the floor had shifted. "—do this."
Max held his gaze. "Then let me in," he said, his voice calm again. "So we can talk like adults and not like two idiots arguing through a crack in a door."
Adam stared at him.
Max didn't move. Didn't push. Didn't even lift a hand.
Just waited, because he knew Adam would rather die than be physically overpowered, and Max, infuriatingly, respected that.
Adam exhaled slowly through his nose, feeling the last of his wine rebellion turn into sour irritation.
He unhooked the chain.
The sound was small, metallic, and final.
