By the time the innkeep returns with the drinks, the fragile peace has settled once more over our corner of the inn. The storm outside continues to rage, a constant, drumming presence that seems to muffle the sounds of the city, creating a strange, isolated bubble around our table.
May claps her hands with delight when she sees the large mug of sweet milk, complete with a swirl of cream on top. Elara just stares at the mug of hot chocolate, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if she can't quite believe it's for her.
She doesn't touch it at first. She just looks at it, her hands clasped in her lap, her expression unreadable.
Tomas notices her hesitation. He nudges the mug toward her. "It's gonna get cold." He says, his voice a low, gruff grumble. "And I paid for it. So drink it."
Elara looks up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. She's not used to people being nice to her, especially not a man like Tomas, all sharp edges and simmering anger.
