After some time…
They had just reached the bottom of the stairs, the house still wrapped in that early-morning quiet where everything felt softer and slower, when he spoke so casually that it took her a second to process his words.
"You really don't remember anything?" Dante asked, glancing at her as they walked side by side into the living area.
She hesitated, rubbing her temple lightly as if it might coax the memories back. "Not really," she admitted, her voice a little sheepish. "My head feels… messy. Like someone shuffled everything and forgot to put it back in order." She paused, then looked at him properly, guilt creeping into her expression. "I'm sorry if I caused any trouble. It's just… I drank after a long time."
He hummed, thoughtful, far too calm.
"It's fine," he said easily. Then, with the faintest curve of amusement tugging at his lips, he added, "You didn't do much. Except glare at a waitress, kiss my neck, and then declare me 'mine.'"
She stopped walking.
