Astron tilted his head slightly, her weight against his back like a quiet anchor, steady and close. He didn't shrug her off, didn't move. He simply stood there, letting her warmth settle into his spine, even as his voice—ever calm, ever measured—cut through the hush between them.
"Your demands," he said slowly, "aren't something I can control all the time."
Irina's arms tightened slightly around him, and the corner of her mouth lifted into a crooked smirk he couldn't see. "Why not?" she murmured, voice low, teasing. "Try your best. Isn't that what you always say?"
Astron didn't miss a beat. "I do say that," he admitted. "But I also don't like making promises I may not hold onto."
"That's life," she said, half-laughing under her breath. "Isn't it?"
He paused, then turned his head slightly toward her voice, his purple eyes flicking sideways with the faintest note of amusement. "That's strangely deep."
