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Summary
It was Enjin. His hair was messy from sleep, his usual easy confidence replaced by the soft haze of drowsiness. He wore only loose pants, and the bold lines of his tattoos were visible even in the dim light. Rudo felt his face burn, he’d never thought about what happened behind this door when the lights went out, never wanted to intrude on whatever quiet intimacy Zanka and Enjin shared. He took a step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Sorry” he mumbled, turning away.
“I shouldn’t have— I’ll go. I was just… it doesn’t matter”
“Rudo?”