Inside the cozy warmth of Dillion's quaters, the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows across the room.
The scent of cedarwood and faint traces of parchment filled the air, a reminder of the endless nights Dillion spent pouring over maps and plans.
Few books scattered on a desk, a polished sword leaning against the wall, and thick, comfortable cushions that seemed to invite relaxation.
On the wide, cushioned couch in the center of the room, Niko sat atop Dillion's stomach, cross-legged, his hands gesturing wildly as he launched into his latest rant.
Dillion watched him with an amused smile, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as the younger man whined dramatically about his latest grievance.
