Snow kept falling around them, each flake catching the pale light filtering through clouds overhead.
The sun hung somewhere behind that gray veil, illuminating the world in soft tones that made everything feel distant and dreamlike.
Damian sat in the offered chair, his hands resting on his thighs, his masked face pointed toward the man across from him.
'How am I supposed to enjoy this 'gift'?'
The thought came helpless and confused.
'How do I treasure this moment when all I can think about is what's coming?'
His throat felt tight, his chest heavy with weight.
'What am I even supposed to say to him?'
Darius moved, his hand rising toward the bottles that had materialized moments before.
His fingers wrapped around one particular container.
"Here."
The whisper emerged casual but carrying undercurrents of genuine excitement.
He pulled the cork free with practiced ease, the sound cutting across the quiet terrace.
"You're really lucky, you know."
