The kiss had been unexpected, but sweet. And a wordless confirmation, of sorts. He would be back. Everything was not ruined. He said goodnight, not goodbye.

The Dark Urge's last footsteps heard before fading from perception were a few minutes gone by the time Enver Gortash picked up and replaced his robe again, tying it at the waist and traveling out into the greater room to straighten his desk and douse the remaining candles. The fire would begin to die down, and in a few hours servants would be by to get the place lit and aired again.

He would hopefully sleep a little longer after that, but he expected he would probably only allow himself a little time to rest before he was up and back to work again, as much as his body would complain.

His bed felt a little cold when at last he found it again. Perhaps it could stand to be a little bigger.