That was the problem.
If he’d sounded normal—controlled, unreadable, emotionally allergic—I would’ve known what to do with it.
But he didn’t.
“You okay?”
Simple question.
Quiet.
And somehow that made it worse.
Because it sounded real.
I looked up at him slowly.
The rooftop lights caught the sharp edge of his jaw for half a second before someone moved between us and the shadow returned.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
His expression didn’t change.
“You always say that.”
That almost made me laugh.
Almost.
“You do too.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Difference is I’m usually lying.”
That hit harder than it should’ve.
Because he said it casually.
Like it wasn’t a massive thing to admit.
I stared at him for a second.
“You’re weird tonight.”
“I know.”
No denial.
No deflection.
That somehow made him feel more dangerous than usual.
MASON
She looked unsettled.
Not dramatic.
Just thrown slightly off balance.
