The connecting door had a particular sound when it opened from her side, almost like the hinges recognized the direction and were adjusting accordingly.
Mara had been standing in front of it for over five minutes before she finally pushed it open.
Nico's room was dim, lit only by a desk lamp and the low city glow coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He was at the desk; his jacket and shirt were gone, and he was just in his dark trousers. A glass of whiskey sat near his elbow, and a folder lay open in front of him, though she suspected he wasn't actually reading it.
Her eyes subconciously ran the full lenght of his tattoed arms, up to his chest and… she caught herself almost immediately. She quickly averted her eyes and filed the memory away before it built into anything sinful.
"You said tonight," she said.
"I did." He turned a page without looking at it. "Sit down."
"I'd rather stand."
