Florian tore his gaze away, suddenly feeling the weight of Lancelot's stare pressing down on him like an unseen force. His fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk, nails faintly pressing into the wood as he swallowed.
'Ah. He's being so touchy again.'
Lancelot took another step forward, close enough that Florian could feel the warmth radiating from him, a heat that threatened to close the small space between them. His presence was suffocating—familiar, but suffocating nonetheless.
But then—
He stopped.
And then… he stepped back.
Florian blinked, startled by the abrupt shift. His head snapped up, eyes locking onto Lancelot's face. The smirk—the ever-present, infuriating smirk—was gone. The teasing glint in his green eyes had dulled, replaced by something… hesitant. Uncertain.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and the man standing before him was an entirely different person.
