"Waiting for a meeting?" Victor's voice carried across the room, low and faintly amused.
Elias didn't startle. He turned his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, still half‑lounged against the couch. The sight of Victor leaning casually in the doorway of his office, crimson eyes gleaming with that quiet intensity, pulled the faintest curve to Elias's lips.
"I thought I'd see if the famous Victor Numen actually holds meetings," Elias replied, lounging shamelessly on the couch.
Victor's mouth curved, slow and deliberate, that faint edge of amusement darkening the crimson in his gaze.
"You look far too comfortable for someone trespassing in my office," he said lightly, pushing off the doorframe. His steps were unhurried, the soft fall of his shoes on the polished floor carrying an ease that belied the quiet authority in his presence.
