Damien walked down the street, the cool evening air brushing against his face as he gripped Karl's phone in one hand, spinning it idly between his fingers.
He strolled along, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he dialed a familiar number.
After a few rings, the line picked up, and a sharp, irritated voice filled the silence. "Hello? Who the hell is this?"
Damien chuckled under his breath.
The voice belonged to none other than Natasha.
She hadn't forgotten him, it seemed—no surprise, considering their rather… unconventional first meeting.
"Well, well," he said smoothly, letting his voice carry the same easy confidence that had gotten under her skin last time. "If it isn't the woman with the sharp tongue. Miss me?"
There was a pause on the other end, and Damien could almost hear her grinding her teeth.
"Miss you? Are you serious right now? Who are you, and why the hell are you calling me?"
He smiled, amused by her anger.
