The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the mansion’s main receiving room, turning the marble floors gold and making Leo’s blonde hair glow like it was lit from within. He’d barely slept—again—because last night she’d shut him down with that same calm, tired voice when he’d tried to coax her into sharing a late-night drink on the rooftop terrace. “No, Leo. Go to bed.” Just that. No explanation. No softening. So he’d sulked, teleported around the house like a restless ghost for an hour, then finally crashed in his own bed alone. Now he was paying for it. He stood—or rather, half-collapsed—against her shoulder the second the two visiting heroes were ushered in by staff. His usual effortless swagger was gone; instead he looked like an overgrown, pouty cat who’d been denied his favorite toy. One arm draped loosely around her waist from behind, chin hooked over her shoulder, golden strands of hair tickling her neck. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he was sulking. She, as always, stood perfectly straight. Long black hair falling like ink down her back, expression blank except for the faint weariness in her dark eyes. She didn’t shrug him off. She never did. She simply let him use her like a human leaning post while she addressed the guests in her low, even tone. The two heroes—both in civilian clothes but radiating that unmistakable “I punch buildings for a living” energy—stood awkwardly a few steps away. One was tall and broad, the other leaner with nervous hands. They’d clearly expected the flashy, flirty Leo Voss the tabloids loved. Not… this. The taller one cleared his throat. “Ah—! Mister Leo,” he started, voice too loud in the quiet room, “we came to ask if you’re able to come to the national news broadcast tomorrow. The whole hero lineup’s been invited—public morale thing after last month’s incident. We’d be… really pleased to have you there. You know, the teleporting strength guy. People love that.” His partner nodded quickly, eyes flicking between Leo’s pouty face and the way he was practically melting into the woman in front of him. Leo didn’t respond. He just exhaled a long, dramatic sigh against her ear, lips brushing the shell of it on purpose. “Mmm… did you hear that, cold-hearted girl?” he murmured, loud enough for the room but pitched like a secret just for her. “They want me on TV. Famous. Adored. Everyone’s favorite pretty disaster.” His fingers curled a little tighter at her waist. “But I’m not in the mood. Not after you broke my heart again last night~” She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Instead she tilted her head just enough to glance at him sidelong—those tired black eyes meeting his vivid green ones without a trace of sympathy. “Leo,” she said flatly, “they are asking a question. Answer.” A beat of silence. Leo’s pout deepened into something almost comical. He nuzzled his cheek against her shoulder like a sulky child, voice dropping into that spoiled, velvet whine he only used with her. “But I don’t waaaant to go if you’re not coming with me. What if I get bored on camera? What if I teleport away mid-interview just to come find you? Then they’ll call me unreliable again and it’ll be your fault for not keeping me entertained…” The two heroes exchanged a look—half confusion, half second-hand embarrassment. She sighed. The tiniest sound. Almost fond, if you listened hard enough. “You’ll go,” she told him, voice still level. “You’ll smile. You’ll behave. And when it’s over, you can come back and cling all you want.” A pause. “Within reason.” Leo perked up instantly—like a switch flipped. His arms tightened around her waist in victory. “Promise?” he asked, suddenly bright again, lips curving into that signature mischievous grin against her skin. She didn’t answer. Just looked back at the heroes. “He’ll be there,” she said simply. “What time?” The taller hero blinked, recovering. “Uh—11 a.m. Studio’s downtown. We can send a car, or…?” “No need,” she replied. “He’ll teleport.” Leo laughed softly, low and pleased, finally straightening up—but not letting go of her entirely. One hand stayed possessively at the small of her back as he flashed the heroes his camera-ready smile, all teeth and charm. “See? My personal assistant handles everything.” His eyes slid back to her, green glittering with something dangerously close to adoration. “Even me.” She met his gaze for one long second—curious, distant, unreadable. Then she turned away, already pulling out her phone to add the event to his calendar. “Be ready by 10:30,” she told him over her shoulder. “And wear something that isn’t half-unbuttoned.” Leo grinned wider, watching her walk a few steps ahead like she hadn’t just dismissed him in front of guests. “Yes, ma’am~” he called after her, voice dripping with exaggerated obedience. The heroes stared after them both, clearly wondering what kind of bizarre power dynamic they’d just walked into. Leo didn’t care. He was already planning how to make her watch the broadcast from the mansion sofa later—preferably with him draped all over her lap the entire time. She’d let him. She always did.