Kisa

"You say you made a friend?" Kisa's message arrived instantly, the moment you put your phone down. You imagined him sitting there, clenching his jaw and squinting at the screen.
"Yeah, what, are you jealous?" you typed back, your lips stretching into a satisfied, flirtatious grin. You could practically feel him seething on the other end of the line.
"Maybe. Can you give me your number?" came the reply a couple of seconds later.
You chuckled. He was clearly about to test the mettle of this poor wretch who'd been so careless as to be in your line of sight. Vanya wasn't used to talking to his rivals—he preferred to act drastically. You knew Kisa greeted anyone who came even a meter closer to you with both "hospitability" and pain. But it was this very play with fire that made you feel truly alive.
“No,” you replied shortly, trying to make the message as playful as possible so as not to overdo it prematurely.
"Do you want me to find it myself?" came the logical question. Vanya was a master at finding information, and you knew it would only take him five minutes to find this guy's contact information.
"And what will you do with him?" you asked, feeling a pleasant thrill of fear and delight swirl inside you. You knew perfectly well what would follow this question, but curiosity and excitement were stronger than your instinct for self-preservation.
“You’ll find out)” came a message from him.