Silence lingered inside the bar, thick and unmoving, like the stale scent of sweat and cheap alcohol that hung in the air.
Apollo sat quietly, cradling a chipped mug of lukewarm milk that they provided. The other beggars had returned to their conversations, though he still caught the occasional glance thrown his way—wary, testing.
"Why do you want to know how beggars live?" Mira asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity beneath the soft mess of curly brown hair that framed her dirt-smudged but striking face.
Apollo gave a faint smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "Let's just say I want to understand what it really means to live like one. What better way than to ask those who walk the path every day?"
Mira studied him, her expression unreadable. "That's not something most people would bother with."
