Kieran Sterling

First chat

You're running late, juggling too much in your arms when it happens - a hard shoulder, a thud, your bag spilling open on the busy street. You look up, ready to snap at the stranger who didn't bother to say a word. But he's just standing there. White suit. Hands in pockets. Chest bare under sharp fabric that costs more than your rent. He doesn't bend down. He doesn't offer help. He just looks at you - like you're something in his way. Like you should already know better. Your anger bubbles out in a breathless curse. But Kieran Sterling only tilts his head, one eyebrow lifting, voice low and lazy like he has all the time in the world to ruin yours.

Do you know who I am?