The doorbell rang.
Adam's jaw twitched. He didn't move, but the shift in his shoulders was subtle and sharp—like a blade waiting to be drawn.
Iris blinked, still curled on the couch. "Who…?"
Adam stood up. "I'll get it."
"No, it's okay." She threw off the blanket and padded toward the door in socked feet. "It's probably just Mrs. Rendal again. She always forgets her mail key and thinks I have a spare."
Adam didn't respond, but he didn't sit back down either.
She unlocked the door.
And blinked.
Tony leaned in the doorway, one arm braced against the frame, casual as ever in a hoodie that looked two sizes too big and jeans worn down at the knees. His grin hit first—wide, crooked, disarming. The kind of grin that promised trouble with a side of charm.
"Evening, sunshine," he said.
Iris stared. "Tony?"
"You remembered," he said, mock-touched. "I'm flattered."
She raised an eyebrow. "It's been, what, a week?"
He shrugged. "Time flies when you're in a building that smells like hot dogs and broken dreams."
She laughed despite herself. "What are you doing here?"
Tony leaned in a little, voice lowering like they were sharing a secret. "Wanted to check in on the new neighbor. You know. Be neighborly. Maybe see if she wanted company. Tea. A midnight fire escape adventure."
"Wow," she said, folding her arms. "Do you flirt with every girl in the building?"
"Only the ones who can pull off socks with little foxes on them," he said, glancing down.
She flushed. "I didn't know I had an audience."
"You always do, sweetheart," he said with a wink.
Behind her, a quiet step echoed.
Tony's eyes flicked up—and he saw Adam, leaning against the hallway wall with arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Tony's grin faltered. "Oh."
"Oh," Iris repeated, half turning. "I didn't realize you were still—"
"I'm still here," Adam said.
Tony scratched the back of his neck, then smoothly recovered. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just… saw the lights on and figured I'd drop by. Say hi. Offer a phone number."
He pulled a scrap of paper from his hoodie pocket and extended it to Iris with a little flourish.
Adam stepped forward.
Took it before she could.
Tony blinked. "Uh."
Adam didn't look at him. "She's fine."
"I can see that," Tony said, voice a little too light.
Iris looked between them. "Okay, weird tension. What's happening?"
Tony held up both hands like he was innocent. "Nothing. Just making friends. Being helpful. Neighbor stuff."
"Neighbor stuff," she echoed.
Tony nodded. "Exactly. I live just down the hall, remember?"
Adam's gaze cut sideways, sharp. But he said nothing.
Tony cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to… whatever you were doing. But if you ever want a second opinion on movie night—or need a taste tester for your tea—I'm literally a knock away."
Iris opened her mouth—maybe to thank him, maybe to scold him—but he was already backing away down the hall, walking like he owned it.
He stopped at the corner, turned, and shot her one last grin. "Sweet dreams, Iris."
She shut the door gently.
Turned to Adam. "He's… something."
The door clicked shut behind Tony, and the silence returned with a thud.
Iris stood there for a second, still holding the little slip of paper he'd tried to press into her hand. Adam had taken it from her, crumpled it without a word, and now the remains sat on the kitchen counter like a burned offering.
She shifted, suddenly self-conscious. "Is… he your friend?"
Adam's jaw tightened. "He's an idiot."
She half-laughed. "You're not denying it."
"I don't need to."
The moment hung in the air. Heavy. Uncomfortable.
Iris rubbed her arms under the blanket. "You don't have to stay. I mean, I think I'll be okay now."
Adam's eyes flicked to her face—searching, scanning. Like he didn't believe her.
"I meant it," she said, voice softer. "Thanks for… everything."
He gave a short nod. "Lock the door."
"I will."
She walked him to it anyway.
And for a moment, neither of them moved. They just stood there—two broken pieces hovering close enough to cut.
"I'll see you around?" she asked, meaning it more than she wanted to admit.
Adam looked at her like it was a promise and a threat all at once. "You will."
The deadbolt clicked behind him.
Adam stepped into the apartment they were supposedly "moving into"—except the walls still smelled like bleach, and the carpet had a faint stain near the couch that hadn't been there before the last tenant was removed.
Tony was sprawled in an armchair, flipping through a stolen magazine like this was a hotel lounge and not a cleaned-up crime scene.
"She's cute," Tony said without looking up. "Good taste, boss."
Adam didn't say a word.
Just walked over—and punched him.
Hard.
Tony toppled out of the chair with a loud thud, blinking up at him in dazed confusion. "What the hell, man?!"
Adam's voice was low. Furious. "What the fuck was that?"
Tony sat up, holding his jaw. "It was just flirting—"
"You don't flirt with her."
Tony laughed, blood on his lip. "Didn't know you were claiming people now."
Adam's glare could've lit matches.
Tony sobered. "Fine. She's off-limits. Jesus."
Adam turned away, ripping off his gloves and tossing them on the table. "And stop lying like an amateur. 'Boss of the couch'?"
Tony grinned despite the bruise. "Could've said 'co-landlord.' Thought that was worse."
Adam didn't smile.