The limousine pulled to a stop. Satori moved to wake Luka, who grumbled and yawned as consciousness returned. As they all exited the vehicle, Kimiko watched the careful distance Satori and Natalia maintained between themselves, the studious way they avoided eye contact.
In the elevator, Luka leaned heavily against the wall, mumbling about his pride in "his boy" and how "those stuck-up VHC types" had finally seen what Satori was made of. Satori nodded along, the picture of a dutiful son basking in his father's approval, though Kimiko caught the calculating gleam in his eyes—a look that had become increasingly familiar and increasingly unsettling over the past months.
Natalia stood in the corner, her expression unreadable, her eyes fixed on the rising floor numbers, one manicured finger tapping rhythmically against her thigh—a nervous tic Kimiko had noticed developing recently.
As they entered the apartment, Kimiko gestured toward the main bedroom. "Satori, would you?"
