"He's been calling you repeatedly, but you haven't answered any of his calls." Brian said quickly.
Manson frowned slightly, then casually reached for his coffee.
"Why did you make it sound like bad news?" he muttered.
"Sorry, sir," Brian replied respectfully. "He's been worried about you."
"Oh." He took a sip. "I left my phone in my bedroom around three in the morning."
Fiona's eyes widened instantly.
"3:a.m.?" she repeated, staring at him. "What were you doing awake at that hour? Are you some kind of wizard?"
Manson's lips curved into a slow smirk.
"Are you scared of me now?"
Fiona scrunched her nose dramatically.
"Bleh. Not even close." She stuck her lips out at him like a child.
Manson chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on her a second longer than necessary.
"Then when exactly will you be scared of me?" he asked.
Fiona's gaze drifted to the small bandage on his face.
She pointed at it.
"When you take that off."
