Freya doesn't answer right away.
She keeps watching me across the table, her face as cold as the real chill her skin carries to anyone who gets near.
Rhayne sits across from me, more composed than she should be after taking an arrow to the lung and waking from a skill that nearly swallowed the plaza. Veric occupies the chair beside her, too elegant for someone crumpled by an ice scythe a few hours ago. Mira picks the corner next to Freya. Zhang Xi settles near the door on Veric's side, serene, as if private bar rooms were just another kind of infirmary. Come to think of it, every place looks the same to her.
The silence stretches until it turns uncomfortable.
Then someone knocks.
The attendant pokes his head in, cautious the way you get from serving Divers who are sour over losses and overexcited about wins.
"Will you order now?"
Freya raises an eyebrow at me, as if his arrival just demolished my attempt at drama. I breathe through my nose. "Yes. We'll order now."
