Sky approached the bed cautiously and slowly, his movements measured and deliberate.
You could cut the tension from their earlier confrontation with a knife, it was so thick in that dark room, but Chris didn't seem to care one bit. He lounged against the pillows, legs stretched out, his gaze unreadable yet piercing.
Sky hesitated before pulling his backpack off his shoulder and rummaging through it. Without a word, he tossed a few snack packs onto the bed. Then, as if needing a physical barrier, he folded his arms and stayed standing a few feet away.
Chris tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curving in a faint smirk. "Really? You're just going to stand there? After all the effort I went through to make this"—he gestured at the projector and their makeshift setup—"so cozy for you?"
Sky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're impossible. You know that?"
Chris shrugged nonchalantly, the smirk deepening. "And yet, here you are."