"Craig?" The name slipped out too softly, an uncomfortable flush of embarrassment spread across her face. She hadn't meant for it to sound like that, so unguarded.
She barely called him like that, not since things had changed. It always came with the Lesnar—sharp, distant, detached. But this? It felt different, warmer.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if he had noticed it too. Then, barely above a whisper, "Mm-hmm?"
Breathless. Soft. Like the sound had traveled from somewhere deeper than his throat.
Merlina's eyes flicked to her reflection in the dark window. Her own face looked unfamiliar, thrown off-balance. She cleared her throat. "Um… did you say twenty minutes?"
"Yeah." He exhaled slowly. "Philosophy Study Room."
For the first time in a while, it almost felt like a normal conversation—no raised voices, no edge, just words passed back and forth.
Her fingers tightened around the phone. "This is sudden. Why not tomorrow?"
"Why not tonight?" He counted.
