She does it the way she does everything she isn’t “supposed” to want.
Quiet. Precise. Calm enough to pass for innocence while daring anyone to challenge it.
Aris settles onto the floor with the blanket, back to the couch. Casual. Easy. She leans just far enough that her shoulders brush Magnus’s knees and her hip rests lightly against Orion’s thigh.
Not an accident.
Not a declaration.
Placement.
The room shifts.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… a subtle tightening. Like everyone noticed the same thing at once and chose not to name it.
Orion stills first. His thigh firms under the contact, not retreating. He never retreats from presence—he absorbs it, solid, steady.
Magnus’s reaction is quieter but sharper. One controlled inhale. His hands rest on his thighs, no longer idle.
Silas doe
