This was Zevran’s moment to enjoy, one he had clearly been aching for from the start, and with the location of their chosen apartment being no secret it was only a matter of time before it'd come. Isaac turns his attention back to his book, looking to lose himself in some new and meaningful project.

“How nice.” He offers distantly without missing a beat or lifting his eyes, and it's among the kindest answers he could have given.

Strangely, the absence of whispering devils in his mind brings none of the peace he’d have expected. Even though they had striven to wear away his defenses, little by little, at every waking moment, he’s beginning to miss the white-noise of their meshing voices filling a now-empty space, so powerful at times it could blot out every other thought vying for attention.

He frowns at the page, pen making sharper, more decisive strokes.

What he wouldn't do for one short, sweet little moment of it.