Luka
The air is heavy in Luka's office, though he doesn't seem bothered by it in the slightest. Perched regally atop Ikaw's back, Luka crosses his slender legs, one ankle clad in nylon, brushing the other. "Really, this is your own fault. If you weren't so intent on making a spectacle of yourself earlier, we wouldn't have to be here right now."
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