The Banter on the Rooftop.

Fiona is still processing Damian’s first words.

“You found me. Congratulations.”

What kind of sleep-deprived, cryptic nonsense—?!

She crosses her arms. “I wasn’t aware this was a game of hide-and-seek.”

Damian smirks, still lying down. “It wasn’t. But you played anyway.”

Fiona glares. “Well, sorry to ruin your little rooftop getaway, but you have a session with me.”

At this, Damian sighs dramatically. “A session. Of course.” He finally sits up, stretching lazily. “And who exactly are you again?”

Fiona straightens, putting on her best professional act. “Dr. Fiona Bennett. Your new psychiatrist.”

Damian stares at her. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

…He doesn’t believe her.

Oh crap.

Did I say something wrong?! Did I blink weird?!!

She clears her throat. “Is… something funny?”

Damian leans in slightly, elbows resting on his knees, watching her too closely. “You.”

Fiona blinks. “Me?”

He tilts his head. “Yeah. You don’t look like a psychiatrist.”

Fiona forces a tight smile. “Oh? And what do psychiatrists look like?”

Damian shrugs. “Older. Tired. Probably wearing glasses.” His eyes flicker over her outfit. “And they definitely don’t wear shoes that scream ‘I walked into the wrong place.’”

Fiona quickly glances down at her bright red sneakers. Crap. Rookie mistake.

She clears her throat, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “Well, Damian, you don’t look like a patient either.”

He raises a brow. “No?”

Fiona smirks. “No. Patients are usually inside the hospital. You, however, are having a rooftop vacation.”

Damian chuckles. “Touché, ‘doctor.’”

A gust of wind blows between them, and for a split second, Fiona sees it—the exhaustion behind his teasing. The kind of tiredness that isn’t just about missing sleep. The kind that settles into your bones.

It almost makes her feel bad for dragging him back inside. Almost.

She sighs, putting a hand on her hip. “Come on, sleeping beauty. Back to your room.”

Damian groans. “Ugh. I hate it there.”

Fiona raises a brow. “Well, I hate playing detective, but here we are.”

He watches her for a long moment, then—to her absolute horror—grins.

Oh no. That’s a mischievous grin. That’s a ‘this guy is about to make my life difficult’ grin.

Damian leans back on his hands, completely relaxed. “Okay, new deal. I’ll go back inside… if you answer one question.”

Fiona sighs. “Fine. What?”

He smirks. “Are you really a psychiatrist?”

Fiona freezes.

He’s messing with her. Right?

…Right?!

Damian’s smirk lingers, eyes sharp with amusement. “Are you really a psychiatrist?”

Fiona doesn’t flinch. If he wants to play, she’ll show him how it’s done.

She tilts her head, stepping closer, eyes narrowing. “Are you really a patient?”

Damian’s smirk falters for half a second.

Gotcha.

He recovers quickly, raising a brow. “You tell me, doctor.”

Fiona sighs dramatically, crossing her arms. “Well, let’s see. You avoid your sessions, refuse to stay in your room, and—you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

Damian hums. “So observant.”

Fiona leans in slightly, lowering her voice like she’s about to reveal a scandalous secret. “But you also talk too much to be totally miserable.”

Damian blinks. “…Excuse me?”

Fiona shrugs, circling him like a detective solving a case. “I’ve met miserable people, Damian. They don’t smirk. They don’t tease. And they definitely don’t make deals just to stall for time.”

Damian watches her, like he’s trying to figure out who the hell she really is.

Fiona presses on. “So, I’ll answer your question. Yes, I’m a psychiatrist.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips. “Mm. Liar.”

She grins. “And you love it.”

Damian chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. You win.” He gets to his feet, stretching lazily. “I’ll go back.”

Fiona gasps dramatically. “Wait. That’s it? No sarcastic remark? No last-minute attempt to escape?”

Damian smirks. “Oh, don’t worry, doc. I’m just giving you this round.” He leans in slightly. “It’s more fun when you think you’re ahead.”

Fiona watches as he casually strolls toward the rooftop door, hands in his pockets, completely unbothered.

Oh.

This wasn’t a win.

This was a challenge.

And damn it, now she actually wants to know more about him.

--- To be continued ---

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