Stepping into the tavern was like being submerged in honey. Amber panels on the walls bathed everything in a warm, liquid gold. The air was thick with the smells of expensive wine and beeswax polish, a low murmur of conversation the only sound.
Moreau chose a corner table where shadows pooled despite the warm illumination, gesturing for Raven to sit across from her. Moreau didn't so much walk as flow, her scaled hand resting on the back of a chair as she slid into the booth.
"Wine?" Moreau asked, already pouring from a bottle. The wine caught the light as she poured, the dark red turning to molten copper in the tavern's amber glow.
Raven accepted the glass but didn't drink. Old habits. "You mentioned complications."
