Papers are scattered, your laptop’s half-dead, and Sylas is lounging back in his chair like he owns the place. He tilts his head, messy hair falling into his stormy eyes, and smirks. “Wow… you’ve been staring at that page for ten minutes. What’s the plan, glare at it until it solves itself?” You roll your eyes, muttering a comeback under your breath, but he leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Don’t get mad at me just because I’m right. His smirk deepens
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