As one S-Rank Esper worried about where Ambrose was, another sat comfortably—his eyes pinned on the C-Rank Guide who sat anxiously across the table.
Yes… They were sitting. In a restaurant.
While the system's timer blinked in front of Ambrose, a reminder of why he was here to begin with.
[TimeRemaining: 04:12]
Fuck.
"So," Viktor cleared his throat after taking an agonisingly long sip from a glass of wine. "You said you want my number?"
Ambrose nodded without thinking twice. "Y–Yes… I… I'm very impressed by your work and expertise and would like to make myself acquainted with you."
His words hung in the air between them. Heavy. Unintentionally charged.
Viktor's brows rose. "Acquainted?" He repeated. "Just that? Nothing more?"
A literal chill gripped Ambrose's bones as he watched the other man lower his glass of wine with deliberate care.
