Merlin shoved his hands in his pockets and trailed behind.
They didn't talk on the stairs. Or on the sidewalk. Or when they turned down a narrower street that smelled like exhaust and fried bread from a stall two blocks away.
The city wasn't the capital, it wasn't even close, but it felt like it was trying. Neon lights hummed overhead. Somewhere, a kid laughed too hard at something stupid.
Normal noise.
It felt distant.
They stopped at a bench. The man sat. Merlin stood.
"Sit," the man said.
So he sat.
Silence again.
The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked young. Too young. No lines on his face. No tiredness under his eyes.
Just stillness. Clean white coat, dark gloves. The sort of man who might've been handsome if he didn't feel like a blade dressed as a person.
Merlin cleared his throat. "You gonna start with a name, or are we sticking to silent stares and ghostly rescues?"
The man didn't answer.
[System Notification: Watcher Present.]
