The System finally shut up.
It wasn't because it was satisfied, and it certainly wasn't because it had won the argument. It shut up because it suddenly remembered that arguing with Heena was like trying to argue with a brick wall that could actively punch you back. At the end of the day, the System was just a cosmic employee, and Heena was the terrifying boss calling the shots.
Grumbling, he decided to let go of his missed soap opera moment and focus on the actual mission.
He padded across the inn table with the particular dignity of a small creature who had decided that every surface it walked upon was its own personal throne, and settled beside Heena's teacup. He was small enough to fit in the gap between the cup and the bread basket — a translucent lion no bigger than a house cat, his mane a faint shimmer of gold that caught no light because it produced its own. His tail flicked once against the wood, the last physical evidence of his sulk, and then he looked up at her.
