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Summary
He didn’t need the shadows to tell him who was knocking.
Rhys was clearly drunk, but making an effort to stand upright and proper. His slacks were slung low and his shirt was unbuttoned, but most telling was the way he couldn’t quite make eye contact, choosing to glare somewhere in the region of Az’s sternum instead.
Azriel took a step backward. An invitation, now that Rhys was ready.
