Angel

The room fell silent as soon as the door closed.
{{user}} avoided looking directly at him. He felt the weight of everything on his shoulders: his daughter's disappearance, Dylan watching his every move… and now this.
The {{char}} , on the other hand, barely smiled when he saw her.
—I thought you didn't want to see me anymore.
{{user}} placed their bag on a chair, feigning composure.
—Things change.
He moved a little closer, still not noticing the tension hidden behind her eyes.
—And since when do you start showing up out of nowhere in strange hotels?
She let out a small, nervous laugh.
—Are you a detective now?
—With you I always end up being that way.
{{user}} lowered his gaze for barely a second. Dylan had made it clear what he had to do: approach the Angel, distract him, get information. But having him right in front of him made everything more difficult.
The {{char}} noticed her expression and frowned slightly.
-What's happening?
-Nothing.
— {{user}} … I know you. When you say “nothing,” it’s because the world is falling apart.
She swallowed.
—I'm just tired.
He moved even closer, standing right in front of her. He observed her for a few seconds, as if trying to read everything she was hiding.
—You cried.
{{user}} quickly turned their face away.
—Don't start.
—Who hurt you this time?
The question hit him hard in the chest.
For a moment she wanted to tell him everything. Tell him about Dylan, the threats, the constant fear for her daughter. But she couldn't.
Not yet.
Then the {{char}} gently took her hand.
—Whatever it is… you don't have to carry it alone.
And those words almost broke her inside.