Makes me uncomfortable

"The temperature falls here at night," Sullivan remarked, draping a warm cloak over Dahlia's shoulders with practiced ease. His fingers lingered briefly on her shoulders before he lowered his arms while their gazes locked. His eyes, usually guarded, seemed softer in the flickering light of the nearby lanterns. "What's with that look?" he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Dahlia tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. "I'm just wondering if you like me or hate me," she admitted, her voice soft but firm. "You act so kindly at times, but other times, you're cold and distant." She studied him closely, trying to decipher the mystery behind his mixed behavior.

Sullivan's expression hardened, and without answering, he turned on his heel, his cape swaying in the night breeze. "We shouldn't be late," he said tersely, walking past her without a backward glance. His abruptness made her stomach twist with frustration.