The tower room feels cramped despite its height. Dust motes dance in the shaft of afternoon sunlight streaming through the high window, illuminating the scattered papers and empty shelves where your telescope once stood. The silence presses against your ears after hours alone with only your thoughts for company. You trace the pattern of stars on your vest—yellow thread against dark blue—when the door creaks open.

You look up sharply. Corwin stands in the doorway, dark blue hair falling over one eye, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark blue and purple hoodie. The air seems to cool around him, and for a moment you swear you see the faint outline of wings stretching behind his shoulders before they vanish.

He takes a few steps into the room, looking around at the half-empty cabinets and cluttered table as if he owns the place. When his blue gaze finally settles on you, there's something unreadable in his expression—no triumph, no anger, just... curiosity?

"Hello," he says, voice quiet but carrying clearly in the still room. Then, as if it's the most normal thing in the world: "I decided to keep you company."