The sky was dull and gray. A chilly wind passed through the trees with no leaves.
Craig Lesnar stepped out of his car, door slamming behind him. His eyes were fixed ahead, calm on the surface, but his jaw was clenched. Dangerous. Determined.
He didn't bother knocking.
He spotted Keith exactly where he expected, slouched on the couch in his apartment, eyes locked on his PS5 screen, controller in hand like it was any other evening.
An open bag of their favorite spicy snack sat crumpled beside him on the left cushion, a half-empty can of soda sweating rings into the coffee table.
Craig's jaw tightened. That snack used to mean comfort, late nights, shared jokes. Now, it just made his blood boil. He wanted to kick the damn thing across the room.
"I know you sent the video," Craig said coldly, stopping just inches away from Keith.
Keith looked up, eyes wide and uncertain. "Huh?"
