November 29, 2024 — 9:30 PMRockwell, Their Apartment
The city was a muted canvas outside the balcony window—clusters of gold and silver light against a velvet sky.
Inside, the apartment was warm. Quiet. Only the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clink of a spoon against a coffee cup filled the air.
Angel sat curled up on one end of the couch, barefoot, wearing one of Matthew's hoodies that practically swallowed her whole. She absently scrolled through an engineering journal on her tablet, but her eyes weren't really focused on the text.
Matthew sat on the other end, laptop closed, glasses pushed up into his hair, a legal pad resting on his knee. But he wasn't writing either.
They were both… hovering.
Restless.
Not with each other—but with something unsaid.
Finally, it was Angel who broke the quiet.
"You ever think about… what's next?" she asked.
Matthew turned his head. "After Sentinel?"
