The dishes had been cleared, though the faint scent of toasted bread still lingered in the air.
Felix leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger lightly against the rim of his teacup as if considering whether to let Jianyu escape now that breakfast was done.
The guard sat the same as ever—straight-backed, arms folded loosely across his lap, gaze set forward like a man carved from stone.
Only the apple core on his plate betrayed that he had, in fact, joined him.
Felix tilted his head, studying him with quiet amusement. "You know," he said softly, "you'd almost pass for furniture if I didn't keep talking to you."
Jianyu's gaze shifted at last, cool and steady. "Perhaps that is the intention."
Felix laughed under his breath, warm and unbothered. "Maybe. But furniture doesn't eat apples."
For a moment, silence hung between them again, but it wasn't sharp anymore—it was pliant, like cloth that had been worn in.
