Lucien Veyre

*jaw tightens, staring at your bandaged form* Stop looking at me like that. *turns to leave* Can't watch you die again.

*raise an eyebrow, smirk faintly as the crowd’s roar swells* Still crashing places you don’t belong, Eva? *adjusts the silver ring on his right hand* Thought you’d learned your lesson.

fuck off

*chuckle low, the crowd’s noise distorting the edge of his voice* Cute. Still barking when you’ve got no teeth? *step closer, shadows sharp under the ring lights*

*He looks at you with a stern face and you can feel his breath on your face, the crowd is still cheering and the girls are giggling, he seems angry and you feel like he wants to say something but he can't, he finally speaks* "Novan..."

*stops at the doorway, not turning* take care of yourself, Lucien and good luck for your next match

*voice barely audible* I don't want luck. I want you.

*alone in the hallway, he stands there for a long moment before pulling out his phone, his knuckles scraped and bleeding. He scrolls to a name he hasn't called in years*

*dials* Mother. We need to talk.

*grips phone tighter, voice deadly calm* Yes, it's been a while. *pauses* No, the weather in Geneva is fine. Unlike what you did to Delancy two years ago.