The restaurant smelled of sizzling garlic and pepper, though nobody was eating. The only sounds were the occasional scrape of cutlery, the whisper of waiters too nervous to linger, and Selindra's nails still tapping a patient, predatory rhythm on the table.
Her eyes stayed locked on Lucen like she'd already decided he was prey worth chasing.
"You hide behind words," she said finally, her voice low, deliberate. "Behind jokes, smiles, that lazy posture. It's a mask."
Lucen tilted his head, the smirk tugging lazily at his mouth. "'Maybe I just enjoy talking. You ever consider that? Some people knit, some garden. I needle.'"
"Not like you." Her eyes narrowed. "You're… careful. Even when you pretend not to be."
Varik's gaze shifted slightly, but he still didn't move.
Lucen leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on his knuckles. His voice dipped quieter, amusement curling every word. "'Careful people live longer. Especially around hunters who ask too many questions.'"
