Eileen gazed at Cesare with a sense of unfamiliarity. The man leaning against the wall near the window stood just outside the reach of moonlight, his figure shrouded in shadow.
The room was dim, the lights not fully turned on, making it hard to see Cesare clearly. She could only discern his outline faintly, enough to confirm his identity.
The situation felt unlike anything she had experienced before. Cesare was someone who rarely revealed unnecessary aspects of himself to her.
Although he sometimes returned with the faint scent of blood or gunpowder lingering on him, it was never as overt as it was now. His current state—so blatant, so unhidden—felt strange, even unsettling.
It reminded her of the time she had caught him smoking. The smell of cigarette smoke on him had felt just as unfamiliar then as it did now.
This dynamic was new as well: Cesare waiting for her to return home. Usually, it was Eileen who waited for him, often late into the night.
