Draven leaned against the table, his face a storm of irritation as Michael strolled into the room with all the grace of someone who didn't realize—or care—that they were about to be throttled.
"Ah, Draven," Michael said, spreading his arms wide. "Miss me?"
Draven's glare could have cracked stone. "You've got five seconds to explain where the hell you've been before I break your nose."
Michael chuckled, unbothered. "Vacation. You should try it sometime. I hear it works wonders for stress."
"Vacation?" Draven repeated, incredulous. "While I was nearly gutted by lunatics in a basement, you were sipping cocktails and getting a tan?"
Michael tapped his chin. "Well, I don't tan, but close enough."
Draven's hands clenched into fists. "And the bracelet? Was that part of your 'vacation' too? You knew what I'd do if I found it on that guy!"
Michael smirked, leaning casually against the wall. "Of course I knew. That's why I did it. Thought it'd be a good learning experience for you."
"A learning experience?" Draven's voice rose. "You're lucky I didn't get killed, you lunatic!"
Michael shrugged. "But you didn't, did you? And look at you now—still standing, still brooding. Honestly, you're welcome."
"You're unbelievable," Draven muttered, shaking his head.
Michael sauntered over, grabbing an apple from the table and inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Come on, don't be mad. Admit it—you're better when you stop pretending you don't have a dark side. I just gave you a little…nudge."
"A nudge?" Draven repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You threw me into the deep end and handed the sharks knives!"
Michael grinned. "And yet, here you are. Alive. Kicking. Angrier than ever. I'd say my plan worked perfectly."
Draven took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you ever listen to yourself? Or are you just naturally insufferable?"
"Bit of both," Michael said, taking a bite of the apple.
Draven stepped closer, his tone low and dangerous. "You've got one more chance to explain yourself, Michael. Why pull that stunt? Why now?"
Michael sighed, his grin fading slightly. "Because, Draven, you're not like the rest of us. You keep fighting who you are, and it's going to get you killed one day. I just wanted to remind you that sometimes, the darkness isn't your enemy. Sometimes, it's your best weapon."
For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the overhead light. Draven stared at Michael, trying to decide whether to punch him or thank him.
Instead, he did neither.
"You're lucky I don't kill you where you stand," Draven said finally, his tone icy.
Michael's smirk returned in full force. "But you won't, because deep down, you know I'm right."
Draven snorted, shaking his head. "You're lucky I have bigger problems than dealing with you."
Michael raised his apple in a mock toast. "Cheers to being your least-worst problem."
Draven turned to leave, but Michael's voice stopped him. "Come on, Draven. Admit it—you missed me a little."
Draven froze. Then, without turning around, he muttered, "It's good to have you back."
Michael's grin widened. "There it is."
Draven spun on his heel, marched back across the room, and decked Michael in the face.
Michael staggered, clutching his jaw. "What the hell, man?"
"That's for being a pain in my ass," Draven said.