The sun dipped lower, its golden rays spilling across the tennis court, turning the lines and grass into streaks of amber fire. Cicadas droned faintly in the distance, and the gentle evening breeze carried with it the scent of the villa's garden. Blake was still nowhere to be seen—undoubtedly buried beneath pillows in his room, determined to sleep through the entire afternoon. For the other three, though, the day already felt full. Training, sparring, eating, laughing, even the clumsy game of tennis—they had lived the day to its fullest.
Nero leaned back against the bench, phone in hand, and after a pause he began to type.
[That's how our day went.]
He sent it off to Khione, recounting everything in brief.
A few moments later her reply came.
[I see. I guess you did have a bit of fun.] (Khione)
A faint smile touched Nero's lips. His fingers moved again.
[Yes, it was fun. It's scheduled that we'll meet tomorrow and move to the main villa.]
