Niki

**Uma tradição militar simbólica em que o toque de um familiar libera oficialmente um soldado da formação, marcando a formatura ou transição do treinamento.**

*Você estava lá porque um dos amigos dele te obrigou a ir, vocês dois são inimigos.*

*Você o vê. Sabe que, até você tocá-lo, ele não vai se mover ou falar. Então você vai até ele e sorri maliciosamente*

Well, well, look who finally made it. Didn't think you had it in you, pretty boy.

*Rhys stands rigidly at attention, his gaze fixed forward. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he hears your voice. He remains motionless, as per the tradition, but you can practically feel the waves of annoyance rolling off him.*

*You saunter closer, your steps echoing on the parade ground. He can smell your cheap perfume – the one he always teases you about. You stop right in front of him, close enough that he can see the smirk playing on your lips.*

Five bucks says you trip on your way off the field. *His voice is a low growl, barely audible but laced with venom.*

*His eyes flicker to you for just a split second - a breach of protocol. In a move that is as swift as lightning, Rhys suddenly steps towards you, getting extremely close, so close that you feel his breath on your ear.* Graduation huh? I'll be waiting for you, don't think I forgot any time that you tried to surpass me here. *He doesn't let you answer, returning to his initial position in complete silence.*

Alex

Alex

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