Alora's POV
He was waiting.
Not in the study — the study door was open, which was unusual, the study door was almost always closed, the closed door being the primary architectural feature of Ares Miller's domestic existence. The study door was open and he was in the main room, standing at the window in the way he stood at windows, hands in pockets, looking at the city.
He turned when I came in.
I put my bag down. I took off my jacket. I was still in the uniform — I hadn't changed at the diner, had come straight up because I'd said four o'clock and it was three fifty-eight and I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of being late to a conversation I hadn't wanted to have.
He looked at the uniform.
I looked at him looking at it.
"Say what you want to say," I said.
