You Call That a Threat?

The next morning.

Veil was roused from sleep by the buzzing of his phone.

Still half-asleep, Blood Mandala fumbled for the phone at the head of the bed and shoved it into his hand with a groggy, annoyed murmur.

"I'm exhausted... Who the hell calls this early? Don't they know you need rest?"

Veil glanced at the screen—Sierra. Without a second thought, he declined the call.

He powered off the phone and tossed it aside. "Ignore her. Go back to sleep."

He pulled the blanket over them, wrapped an arm around Blood Mandala, and shut his eyes again.

They slept straight through until afternoon. As Veil drifted toward consciousness, he caught the faint scent of food wafting through the air.

Eyes cracking open, he sat up lazily against the headboard and lit a cigarette.

Blood Mandala had already brought over a small folding table, setting it up by the bed. Several dishes were arranged on top, neatly plated.