The moans and groans continued from inside the cottage.
Lucius marched forward, shoulders squared like a soldier facing war. He raised his fist and banged on the door with the force of a hundred insults.
The creaking stopped.
Dead silence.
Another knock. This one louder. Sharper. "Linz!" Lucius shouted. "Open this door before I break it down!"
Inside, frantic scrambling. A thump. A muffled curse. More movement—fabric being yanked, furniture shifting.
Alaric snorted. "I think he's trying to get decent."
"Decent won't save him if he doesn't open the damn door," Lucius hissed.
A few heartbeats later, the door creaked open just a sliver, and one very flushed, very shirtless Linz Balusamy poked his head out.
His hair was messy, his lips slightly swollen, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his chest.
"…Mother?" he blinked. "Is everything alright?"
