---
"I really don't understand why I have to follow you."
Anton's voice carried more resignation than protest.
"The rationale is glaringly apparent to anyone willing to engage in rudimentary cognition—unless, of course, that is an unreasonable expectation."
Michael's tone was clinical, detached.
"Woah. Why the big words?"
Anton blinked.
Michael stared at him, shrugged, then continued walking without answering.
Anton fell into step behind him, hands sliding into his pockets.
"Merry go round, round goes the merry—"
He whistled the tune cheerfully, eyes tracking Michael's rigid shoulders.
Michael's pace increased. Subtle. Deliberate.
Anton's grin widened.
"London Bridge is falling down, falling down—"
He switched songs, voice lilting with false innocence.
Michael walked faster.
Anton stopped singing.
His smile didn't fade.
---
"Where the fuck is your guild HQ?"
Anton's patience had worn thin.
