"Well. I'm usually calm, you can ask my assistant how I behave when I'm annoyed, to me I try my best to be as calm. Safe to say, I've never resulted to violence."
Silke didn't say anything, maybe he hasn't been truly angry yet.
"You never know."
Seram paused, hearing Silke's words he felt a pang in his chest.
He actually felt really hurt, he had lived most of his life with some certain rules.
First, was to never hit a woman. Second, was to never resort to violence, no matter the situation, thinking logically was the best way.
Third, never play with someone's feelings, if he wasn't feeling the relationship anymore, he would break it up.
"I'm hurt Silk. Your words hurt me. Seram Pitt has never resorted to violence and I never will…no matter the consequences, I always think with my head first unless there's no other way, violence has never been my first choice."
Silke slowed his steps a little, feeling the weight of Seram's words sink into the air between them. He hadn't expected such a raw and honest response.
He glanced sideways.
Seram wasn't smiling anymore. His jaw was set, the hurt plain in his expression, like a wound he wasn't bothering to hide.
"…I didn't mean it like that," Silke said quietly, his voice low. "I just…"
He trailed off, unsure how to explain himself without making it worse.
Seram chuckled humorlessly under his breath, running a hand through his hair, ruffling the neatly combed strands.
"Maybe you didn't." he said. "But you still said it. You think I'm the type of man who'll snap the moment he's pushed too hard and with these abilities ... .I'd be walking chaos."
Silke swallowed thickly, feeling that familiar, stupid pang of regret start to bloom in his chest.
That wasn't what he meant, not exactly. It was just… experience.
Bitter experience.
He looked at Seram properly now, at the way he carried himself even when angry with control, with sharp, deliberate edges.
"You're not like the others." Silke said finally, the words stiff at first but loosening as they left him. "I know that."
Seram didn't say anything right away, just kept walking toward his office, the tension stretched tight between them.
When they reached the massive double doors to Seram's office, he stopped, hand hovering over the handle.
He turned slightly, fixing Silke with a look, he wasn't as cold as he was before.
"I don't want you to flinch around me,"
Seram said, voice quieter now, lower. "Not even in your head."
Silke met his gaze steadily.
"I'm not scared of you." he said simply.
Seram studied him for a long moment, his fingers curling loosely into a fist before he exhaled slowly, with his abilities, it wasn't wrong for people to be afraid of him.
He just didn't want Silke to be afraid of him.
"I'm relieved." he murmured. Then pushed the door open.
They stepped inside. The office was massive, high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, dark polished wood and leather everywhere.
The power practically bled from the room.
Silke moved to the sitting area near the windows without being asked, settling into one of the armchairs as if he belonged there.
He did, somehow, his presence didn't shrink in the grandness.
Seram went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of something dark and rich — whiskey, by the smell of it.
He brought one over, handing it to Silke without a word.
Silke took it, their fingers brushing briefly.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the city sprawling out beyond the glass, the tension slowly ebbing from the room but not entirely leaving.
Seram finally broke the silence, his voice low and almost contemplative.
"You know… I never minded fighting for what I want. I'm not a saint, but I do have some rules governing my life, so I don't turn into a scumbag"
Seram finished the whisky in one gulp and stood up, heading to the desk.
He didn't know when he would drop by the office, so he should settle as much as he could.
Pressing the intercom button, he called for his secretary.
"Stella, head on up. I'd like you to relay how the company's been faring lately to me."
….
"Yes sir, I'm on my way. Should I bring anything for your partner sir?"
".."
"Silke would you like anything?"
"Chrysanthemum tea would be nice.."
"…"
"He asked for chrysanthemum tea, get him some snacks as well.."
"…"
Silke raised a brow, all he asked for was tea…why was he getting snacks along with it.
"I don't like having snacks with my tea. I'm not British.."
".."
Seram chuckled, he was pretty sure many people had their tea with snacks, regardless of their nationality.
"I like having snacks with my tea. Does that make me British? I mean they do like their tea and biscuits."
Silke smiled…"I find the British accent to be quite sexy, but sadly I've not encountered any since my first Esper."
Seram leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, watching Silke with a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Oh?" he drawled, voice deep and lazy.
"Your first Esper, huh? Was he any good?"
Silke gave a small shrug, lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips again.
"He was... fine. We weren't compatible, though. Good control, but not much of a bond."
He smiled faintly, almost to himself.
"Besides, he didn't look nearly as good in a suit."
Seram's brow lifted, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Is that so?"
Silke gave him a long look, and it was impossible to miss the subtle challenge in his eyes , it was calm, composed, but daring.
Before Seram could say anything back, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in.." Seram called.
Stella stepped in briskly, carrying a tray with a delicate porcelain teapot and matching cup, along with a small assortment of neatly arranged pastries.
She set them down on the coffee table near Silke with professional efficiency, giving both men a brief, polite smile.
"The reports are ready, sir. Shall I begin with the quarterly figures?" she asked.
Seram nodded, but his attention lingered briefly on Silke, watching as he poured himself the chrysanthemum tea with steady hands.
The floral scent drifted through the air, light and soothing.