"If," Devon started with an uninvested tone," by interrupting you mean ruining what could've easily been a relaxing bath—then yes. You are."
He was about to shut the door on the Guide's face. But Han was stubborn, blocking the door with a foot, preventing it from closing all the way.
"Wow," He chuckled with a bitter smile. "Ambrose really has you wrapped around his fingers, doesn't he?"
"I don't know what the heck you're talking about. Neither do I care to know."
"Oh, but I think you do."
"No," Devon repeated, "I don't. Now can you leave? This floor is reserved only for the S-Ranks and you know that."
Those words made Han's expression falter for a beat. Each time he interacted with the Esper he couldn't help but recall the good old days. When Ambrose and his advances were nothing but background noise.
Now—he was utterly consumed with that Guide.
"You did see the video I sent you though," he pulled up a trump card, revelling in the way Devon's expression shifted. "Right?"
