Just like that, the exchange was over. Rashid, ever the man to end things on his own terms, pushed his chair back with a scrape of wood against stone. He stood in a single sweeping motion, his grin never faltering as his dark eyes gleamed with unreadable amusement.
"Well then," he said with a flourish of his hand, tone dripping with mock courtesy, "I won't linger and spoil such a… charming dinner for two. Lovers, conspirators, or fellow survivors—it hardly matters. Tonight, I'll take my leave before I wear out my welcome."
The words hung between jest and provocation, but before Luke could decide which it was, Rashid turned on his heel. As expected, Taryn rose just as silently, following a pace behind like a shadow bound to its master. Not a word left his lips, yet the quiet weight of his gaze lingered a fraction longer on Luke before he disappeared into the tavern's flow of bodies.
