The next morning, Wolfgang sat inside Maverick's tent, one arm propped on the table as his gaze stayed fixed on Maverick, who was busy putting on his outer coat.
Maverick, already feeling the tension, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his temple.
Wolfgang's expression was far from happy.
Julius, seated beside Wolfgang, sighed dramatically. "Enough with it, Wolfgang. Maverick's clearly uncomfortable with you staring at him like that."
Wolfgang snorted in displeasure, his gaze never leaving Maverick. "I'm making sure I don't get left behind again, like last night."
His voice carried a touch of bitterness, clearly referring to how both he and Julius had fallen asleep during their so-called match, only for Wolfgang to wake up and find himself alone while Maverick and Julius had vanished.
As if to emphasize his point, Wolfgang picked up a glass of water, drinking it without breaking eye contact with Maverick.
