Fedora wanted to yell at whoever this audacious, uninvited intruder was, to this ghost almost pushing his door halfway ajar, but the words died in his throat the moment he caught that unmistakable skin texture and indistinguishable scent.
It was his father. It was Storm.
Fedora's face immediately contorted, collapsing into a visible, ugly frown of total distaste and discomfort. A single, jagged question rang through his head, deafening in the silence: "What the fuck is this man here for? Round two or what?!"
The thought made Fedora sneer softly behind clenched teeth. His father's mere presence alone, had already poisoned the air, spoiling his mood before he could even fight to keep it.
Now, a dark part of him wanted to continue from where they had stopped, a rematch of some sort, to vent the pressure building in his chest. He watched the composed, calculated man casually turn around and gently close the door.
