The lunch had started civilised. It was supposed to be nothing more than food, wine, and polite conversation. But "supposed to be" rarely survived with Bob and Riven in the same room, especially once alcohol was involved.
Each time Riven reached for Bob's wine glass to top it off, Leon pushed forward his glass tight. Each time Bob laughed too freely at Riven's nonsense, Soren's hand twitched like he was imagining throttling someone. He really did not want guests.
John sat to the side, massaging his temples. This is exactly why I left home, he thought bitterly. Back then, it had been endless fights for Bob's attention. Now, here, he somehow ended up in the exact same situation. At least it did not involve him... Or Bob.
Whatever kinks Leon, Soren and Riven had to work out was none of his business, he just wanted to leave.
John stared at them. Soren looked ready to walk out. Leon muttered, "I hate..."
And so the stage was set.
