The smell of the cologne he’d put on earlier was making him sick. When he got back to his room, Finn didn’t even bother with the main lights before tearing off everything except his briefs and storming into the bathroom to wash his face and neck. While the water was still running, he thought he heard something in the bedroom. The click of the door opening, closing perhaps? He turned off the water, letting it drip from his face into the gold-veined marble basin as he strained to hear something.

Quiet.

He grabbed a towel, dabbing his face as he pushed the bathroom door open a crack and peered into the room. It was empty. He pushed the door open all the way, his eyes hunting through the shadows until they found the intruder.

Lars stood on the balcony, both hands clutching the railing as he peered into the inky land beyond. It was dark out here. No light pollution from buildings or street lamps. Nothing for miles.

“They run out of food?” he called out to Lars.

The man flinched as if Finn had startled him, and then turned to face him. “I’d had just about enough of El Guapo for one night.” Lars dragged his gaze over Finn’s naked skin.

“What?” Finn asked, when Lars made no move to speak or leave.

Lars shrugged. “Nothing. I got lonely. Thought I’d crash here. Now, I know you like sleeping on the right, but maybe we should—”

Finn glanced at the bed, frowning. When he turned back, Lars had a too-wide smile on his mouth. “Christ, you should see the look on your face.”

Finn dried his face and then tossed the damp towel into the bathroom where it draped over the basin. “Funny,” he muttered, although he felt the furthest goddamn thing from smiling right then. “So you just came here to gawk?” he asked, opening the closet. He’d seen some sweats earlier and went about trying to find a size that would fit.

When he turned, Lars was less than two feet away. The man could move silently if he wanted, despite his height. Those grass-colored eyes studied Finn for so long it became uncomfortable and he had to drop his gaze, stepping into a pair of sweats as a guise for breaking eye contact.

“We are leaving tomorrow, right?” Lars asked quietly. “You’re not suddenly going to come up with some excuse to stay?”

Finn paused in the act of pulling on a t-shirt. Another black one, which suited his mood just fine. “I would have left tonight.”

“Good. Because I like to think you’re still the Milo Finn I know, and not some pussy-whipped bitch who gave his balls away to a teenager.”

For a moment—a brief, chaotic moment—both him and his beast wanted to lunge at Lars. He knew he wanted to punch the man, but what his beast wanted to do he wouldn’t want to try and guess. It had been slinking around in the darkest depths of his brain for the past hour, uneasy and brooding.

As if it didn’t quite know what to do with the memories of him and Lars.

“We’re leaving at dawn. Now let me get some fucking sleep.”

“She’s not worth it, Milo.”

Finn stared at Lars, but couldn’t bring himself to respond. The man could be overprotective at times, but only because he still felt guilty. Lars hardly ever spoke about it, but he knew the man wished he’d been the one with a slit throat, not Finn. He probably thought about it every time he saw that scar across his throat.

“That spoiled little princess could ever—”

“Since when did you become so judgmental?” Finn crossed his arms over his chest. “You take one look at her, and suddenly you know her?”

“I know she’s bad news. She almost got both of us killed. Something I’m pretty sure will keep happening the longer we stick around.”

“Why don’t you actually get to know her before you slap a fucking label on her?”

Lars cocked his head. “You know what? You make a valid point, Milo.” He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up his long locks so they hung in his eyes. “How do I look?”

Finn blinked at him. “You…you look fine. Why…?”

But then Lars was out the door. Finn stared after him, lips still open a little, and gave his head a shake.

This was the last thing he fucking needed.

He shifted on the wooden floor. It was warm. He snorted. Of course it would have underfloor heating.

He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to will himself to climb under the covers. Tried desperately not to wonder what Cora was doing and if he could find his way to her bedroom.

The battle lasted minutes, but felt like hours. He lost; he always did of late.

Minutes later, Finn slipped on his shoes and left his room.