Ethan didn't sit down.
He just stood there, jaw stiff, as if trying to convince himself that the man in front of him wasn't the same loser he'd mocked, bullied, and almost beaten to death a month ago.
"You're Xavier…" he muttered again.
Xavier smiled, stacking chips one-handed, his tone cool. "Took you long enough."
"You shouldn't be here," Ethan said. "You don't belong here."
"Funny," Xavier said, leaning back lazily. "I was just thinking how natural I look here. Fits me better than that tight stick you call your suit."
One of Ethan's men stepped closer. A tall guy with a narrow jaw and thick neck. Probably ex-military or something close.
Ethan raised a hand, stopping him.
"You planned this?" he asked, eyes twitching. "You followed me?"
"I came to play," Xavier said. "You just happened to be the welcome gift."
Ethan chuckled, low and hollow. "You think this is a game?"
Xavier flicked a chip toward the pot, calm. "Isn't it?"
The tension snapped tighter.
