Sunlight crept into the bedroom like a guilty intruder, spilling across the sheets where Claude Lockheart still sprawled lazily. His hair was a mess of dark waves, his arm thrown across the empty side of the bed. Mio was already up. She sat at the vanity, brushing her hair with slow, deliberate strokes that said I-am-still-angry more clearly than words ever could.
Claude cracked one eye open. "You're brushing your hair like you're plotting my downfall," he murmured, voice rough from sleep.
Mio caught his reflection in the mirror and made a small huff. "Maybe I am."
He grinned, stretching like a cat. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."
"Hmm," was all she gave back. She gathered her hair into a ponytail, ignoring him with the kind of dramatic flair that only made him want to tease her more. Her lips were still set in a pout, but her cheeks were faintly pink from their argument the night before.
