The rain still fell, but not here, not in the quiet, lamplit luxury apartment where time seemed to refuse movement.
Connor Woods didn't look up when reality folded open in the middle of his living room. He'd heard the sound before, an air pressure shift, followed by silence so deep it made the glass tremble. It was the sound of godhood arriving uninvited.
"Close the door," he muttered without glancing away from his screen. "You're letting divinity leak into the drywall."
Victor ignored him. The air still shimmered faintly where he'd appeared, the faint scent of ozone cutting through coffee and ink. Across the room, sprawled indecently on Connor's couch, Uno looked entirely pleased with himself, barefoot, wearing someone else's shirt, one hand holding a glass of something that might've been wine if gods ever bothered with fermentation.
"Well," Uno drawled, blue eyes glinting, "look who finally remembered I exist."
