"Look who finally decided to show up," Nicholas said the moment he saw Kasteil.
His voice carried across the golf course, sharp and teasing, cutting through the quiet morning air like a blade. He was leaning against his golf club, his red hair catching the sunlight, his expression one of exaggerated disapproval. Beside him, Elian was already grinning, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, clearly relishing the opportunity to gang up on their friend.
"Just walking in all proud," Elian added with a grin. "Don't you think we deserve an apology?"
Kasteil responded by lifting his middle finger.
The gesture was casual, almost lazy, delivered with the kind of effortless disrespect that only came from years of friendship. He didn't break stride, didn't even look at them properly—just raised his hand, flipped them off, and kept walking toward the tee.
The two men immediately burst into laughter.
