The silence stretched, broken only by snow hitting stone and the distant sounds of celebration from somewhere deep inside the estate below.
Then Darius leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming once against the table's edge before stopping.
"Tell me something."
His voice came out quieter than before.
"This 'yourself' that you don't recognize anymore..."
He paused, his gaze never wavering.
"What even is that, exactly?"
"Huh?"
The sound escaped Damian before his mind fully caught up, confusion bleeding through the single syllable.
His head tilted slightly, processing the question that seemed simple but felt loaded with implications he couldn't quite grasp through the alcohol's haze.
Darius's lips curved into something gentle, understanding mixed with something that approached wisdom.
"There's a line my father always used to say."
His hand reached for the bottle again, refilling both glasses with movements that had become automatic.
