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Summary
“Neither did I, thought you’d already shriveled up and died from the way you’ve been playing lately.”
Art opens his eyes and tilts his head to look at Patrick, who isn’t exactly smiling anymore but is still looking at Art with eyes full of mirth. He looks so much older than when Art saw him last. His dark curls have grown out, and he has much more stubble than he used to. His lips haven’t changed though, those look as soft and red as they always did. When Art’s eyes flicker down to them, one of the corners tilts upwards ever so slightly.
“You just admitted to having watched my matches Zweig.”