The door closed behind him, and he was just steps in when she made herself known. Aslan didn’t even flinch. His eyes moved to Nisa, still fully dressed, not a single emotion passing over his face.

Instead, he blinked serenely. The picture of tired confusion.

“Nisa,” he greeted, as though out of habit. “Are you angry at me?” he followed up in a perplexed tone.

She had found the suitcase. That much was clear.

His eyes dropped to the match that she dropped, eyes finally widening. Was she going to burn this place down?

“I’ve packed before,” he said, sounding mildly perplexed.

Somehow, he seemed even more bereft of emotions than usual.

“There’s a lead in York I’ve been trying to wrangle a connection for, for months. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t see the point of making something out of what would be days at most.”

He had planned his alibi, if little else. Aslan had not wanted to bring everything and be presumptuous about Malachi – he hadn’t accounted for backing out because his own damned feelings got hurt.