"Nooo..." he bemoaned. "That's the worst. Unless..."

"It's a win-win for me," he admitted. "I wasn't getting a wink of sleep alone."

"Recovering from the stress..." he listed off, adding a bit more sheepishly, "Enjoying each other's company..."

He looked to her, surprised by her sudden change of tune.

They were in deep territory now, secret-spilling territory, and Kyros knew that with how rocky things had been between them, she'd clam up immediately if he so much as opened his mouth. As much as it frustrated him, he relegated himself to metaphorically sitting on his hands.

Kyros had crossed his arms and leaned back somewhere in the midst of the reciprocal tirades, not keen on getting in the middle of it. Sparrow was not pulling punches, but he was surprised at how effective it had been in getting Pari to open up.

Kyros looked to his cousin, eyebrows raised. He respected Sparrow for walking out on Pari-- she didn't often stand up to her to that degree. They both knew she'd likely come back around, but for the time being maybe it would snap Pari back to her senses.

"Be right back," he promised, slipping out from beneath the blankets and spiriting away to the bathroom. Peering at himself in the mirror now, he could feel the self-awareness kicking back in. Parisa had been known for her volatility in the past-- the way she had with words, how she crafted them into any truth she wanted and fed them to people who hung on every syllable-- he had a feeling she did that to herself sometimes, unwittingly. It would explain why her feelings would often turn on a dime from an outsider's perspective. He imagined she picked up on the slightest undesirable detail of a situation and ran with it, or perhaps the thoughts came as a building tide, brewing unbeknownst to everyone but her, so that when they finally manifested everyone was shocked but she'd felt it was a long time coming. Anyway, he couldn't know the inner workings of Pari's brain, though it was something he pondered often since childhood. His main fear now was... well, this. The situation at hand, however transcendental, was also rife with problems he knew both of them would have to face eventually. The question was whether, in the ten minutes it took him to shower, her brain would have picked apart everything wrong with them and await him with walls reinforced. It felt almost precarious to leave her to process the moment. To leave the unwatched pot to boil.

But then again, he reminded himself, if this-- whatever this was-- was going to be anything... it would need to survive more than a shower. It was with a resolute exhale that he finished toweling his hair off and gathered himself to reenter her company, vowing to stay open and trust for the best. Before tonight, neither of them wanted to be the first to open the floodgates. Now that they'd passed that, he was not going to be the first to close them again.

"Will you keep it warm for me?" He asked, tugging the blanket up to his chin. "Assuming you're not going to run off back to your room for the night."

He replied with an angry emoji and flagged down his driver at the front of the school grounds. As he climbed into the back of the car, he crossed his arms and had a good, long stew. Of course the idiot wouldn't have broken up with her-- anyone with eyes and a brain would realize Sparrow was a keeper. He'd been operating on the assumption that Gabriel had made the mistake of breaking her heart, but it was so much more complicated now that the truth had become clear. Especially with himself implicated directly. His fingertips drummed against the fabric at his elbow as he turned the last half hour's events over and over in his brain, scowl deepening. What did it all mean? Was she throwing him under the bus as an excuse because she assumed he was untouchable and tossing around his reputation would make for the cleanest break? Or was there something to what she'd said-- that he didn't want them together? He'd voiced his disdain at the whole relationship, sure, but he didn't ever imagine she'd take him seriously. Or perhaps it was the ramblings of a desperate dumpee, and Sparrow had never uttered a word about this in the first place.

As they pulled up to the Palace, he felt one thing was clear: he had to speak to Sparrow.