Manson slid the drawer open with deliberate calm, the faint scrape of wood against wood echoing louder than it should have. From within, he retrieved a sealed game controller untouched, pristine, almost symbolic and held it out between them like an unspoken proposition.
"Play a game with me."
Fiona didn't take it. Her eyes lingered on him instead, searching, dissecting.
"A game?" she echoed, skepticism laced through her tone. "I don't like games. I don't even know how to play them."
"I'll teach you." His voice was smooth, unbothered.
Her expression hardened. "What exactly are you playing at? I can never win against you."
Manson's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "Who said anything about winning?" His gaze settled on her, steady, unreadable. "Just play. Think of it as… having fun."
"Do I look like a joke to you?" Fiona shot back sharply. "If you want fun, go watch cartoons."
