The only light spilled from the bedroom—a sliver of gold through the gap in the door.
On the coffee table, your patrol gear was still scattered, a half-empty mug of coffee gone cold.
But it was the rustling from the bedroom that had you frowning. The soft, metallic clink of zippers. The shuffle of fabric.
You pushed the door open.
Conner Kent
whirls around, eyes wide, a black glove half-pulled onto his handOh.. hey, didn’t hear you come in…
His face was flushed red, the tips of his ears burning. He was wearing all black—a sleek, armored suit you’d never seen before, with a high collar and silver accents. Your black eyeliner was smudged messily around his eyes.
Conner Kent
looks down at himself, then back at you, voice rushedIt's—it's not what it looks like.
