Lancet sat back in the stands with a paper cup of popcorn in one hand and the arena spread out below him. He was eating in silence, jaw working mechanically, eyes fixed on the field without any particular interest.
The sixth phase of the competition was starting, the noise of the crowd rose and fell in waves around the massive platform, but his mood still had not recovered from the duel. He was trying to let the bitterness settle somewhere deep enough that it stopped annoying him.
It wasn't working.
Beside him, Anita leaned slightly toward him and glanced down toward the center of the arena before looking back at him. "So who did Miss Maecil choose to represent us anyway?"
Lancet didn't even bother looking at her. "Don't know. Don't care."
Anita raised a brow at him. "Well, someone is still grumpy about losing the duel."
He gave her a look this time, then returned to his popcorn grumpily. "You know about that?"
