Falcon leaned back into the seat, eyes closed, his presence sinking into the silence like something heavy and unmovable. The wind slipping through the half-open window brushed faintly against his hair, carrying with it the distant sounds of the road-the low bleating of goats packed behind a passing truck, the hum of tires, the restless noise of the city fading behind them-
Click.
The sound was sharp. Precise.
Click.
Again.
And again.
The lighter flicked open and shut in his hand, the rhythm steady, deliberate... controlled.
Destene's eyes shifted toward him, her grip tightening slightly on the wheel.
"Hey... do you need to smoke?"
No answer.
Click.
Her brows furrowed.
"Well? Do you?"
A pause.
Then-
"It helps me focus."
His voice was low. Flat. Void of emotion.
His eyes opened slowly, dark and unreadable as they fixed ahead. "On finding my targets."
The words landed without weight-but somehow felt heavier. Destene let out a small, awkward laugh, shaking her head.
