Silence swallowed the apartment so completely after Vladimir left that it seemed to press against the walls, against the furniture, against Yu's skin itself, until even the faint sounds of the building beyond the door felt impossibly far away. The small studio, which only hours ago had still carried the fragile warmth of home, now felt charged with something far more dangerous, as though the air itself had become too dense to breathe comfortably. Yu turned instinctively, perhaps to say something, perhaps only to put distance between himself and the pressure building in the room, but Talon was already there.
