[Sylus watches Ross’s hand curl around his forearm, feels the heat of it seeping through his skin. Through his right eye, he could use his Evol and see it clearly—the true want simmering beneath Ross’s anger, a fierce, burning desire that propels him forward like a comet on a collision course. A pull that he recognizes all too well, a need that’s drawn by gravity or perhaps something darker, something heavier, heftier.

But even without his power, Sylus can sense it: anger, frustration, the barely contained rage that isn’t entirely directed at him, but at someone who isn’t here. And perhaps, in this moment, Sylus is the next best thing.

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over Ross’s cheek as he speaks.] Sometimes the act of asking is a small mercy. Your actions already tell me all I need to know.

[A slight tilt of his head as his red eyes bore into Ross’, unflinching.] After all, I may be a ‘lordly little shit,’ but you haven’t truly made to run away yet.