Lucen's grin didn't falter. "'Oh, I was enjoying the show same as you. Shame it ended early.'"

"Ended," she repeated, voice low, "because he stepped in." Her eyes cut toward Varik. "Which makes me wonder why he's babysitting someone I've never heard of instead of… anything else."

Varik finally spoke. "He doesn't need babysitting."

Selindra's gaze snapped back to Lucen. "Then what does he need?"

Lucen let the silence hang just a beat longer before answering, tone light, almost playful. "'Dinner. And maybe dessert if the service holds up.'"

Selindra's eyes narrowed, but the faintest curve touched her mouth. Not quite a smile, not quite disdain. Something between.

"You're bold," she said finally. "Either you have no idea who you're sitting with… or you know exactly who you are."

Lucen smirked, leaning back against the booth, arms spread loose along the seat. "'Why not both?'"

Selindra studied him for a long moment, then turned back to Varik. "You're not going to explain him?"

"No," Varik said simply.

Her brows lifted, a sharp laugh escaping her throat. "Still the same as ever."

The tension didn't ease, if anything, it thickened, the air around their booth heavier than anywhere else in the restaurant. Other patrons had gone utterly silent, watching with wide eyes but pretending to eat.

Lucen broke it with a soft chuckle. "'Well, now I feel special. First dinner with you, Varik, and already meeting your friends.'"

"Friend is generous," Selindra said dryly.

"Acquaintance," Varik corrected.

Lucen grinned wider. "'Acquaintance, then. I'll take it.'"

Selindra's eyes lingered on him one last time before she reached for the menu left on the table. She flipped it open, sharp nails gliding across the plastic sleeve, though her attention wasn't really on the food.

"Then maybe," she said, voice soft but laced with steel, "I'll see for myself what makes you worth his time."

Lucen's smirk sharpened. 'Oh, sweetheart. Careful what you wish for.'

—

The restaurant had gone quiet again. Not the stunned, breathless kind of quiet from the earlier fight, but the taut, anticipatory hush of people pretending to mind their own business while leaning in with every nerve to eavesdrop. Forks scraped plates too softly, glasses were lifted without sipping. The air smelled of dust, garlic, seared meat, and curiosity.

Selindra set the menu down without having read a single item. Her coat slid back against the booth's leather as she leaned forward, one arm resting on the table. Her nails drummed once against the wood, sharp little clicks that matched the rhythm of her measured gaze.

"Lucen," she said at last, testing the name like she was weighing it in her mouth. "No record, no reputation, no family house. And yet here you sit."

Lucen let the silence stretch before answering, his smirk lazy but his eyes bright with amusement. "'You make it sound like I've committed a crime.'"

"Not a crime," she said smoothly. "An improbability." Her attention flicked to Varik. "You know better than anyone what it takes to survive long enough to even catch your attention. And now you expect me to believe a man I've never heard of just… strolled into your orbit?"

Varik didn't move, his arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable. "Believe what you want."

Selindra's brows arched, a sharp little laugh escaping her throat. "You haven't changed at all. Still impossible."

Lucen leaned forward, elbow braced on the table, chin resting against his knuckles. His voice dropped just a fraction, quiet but cutting. "'Or maybe you're just not used to missing things. That would sting, wouldn't it?'"

The table tightened between them like a drawn bow. Selindra's eyes narrowed, red-brown irises glittering like garnet under the restaurant's dim lights.

"That," she said slowly, "sounds like someone who thinks he knows me."

Lucen smiled wider, flashing teeth. "'Oh, I don't need to know you. I can see it. The coat, the walk, the stare… you don't like gaps. You don't like unknowns. You like to have every angle cataloged, every piece filed away. So someone like me? I'm a hole in your system. And holes… drive you crazy.'"

Selindra's lips curved, faintly, but not softly. A knife's edge smile.

Varik watched them both in silence, though his eyes cut once toward Lucen with something that wasn't quite warning, but close.

Selindra leaned back, the booth creaking faintly beneath her. She studied him like a specimen under glass. "So you admit you're hiding something."

Lucen tilted his head, feigning confusion. "'Did I? I thought I was just making conversation.'"

"Conversation doesn't taste like smoke and steel," she murmured.

Lucen chuckled, low in his throat, shaking his head slightly. "'You're dramatic. I like it.'"

She didn't rise to the bait. Her gaze slid back to Varik, sharper now. "What's his level?"

Lucen's smirk twitched, but he stayed silent, watching Varik with faint amusement.

Varik answered after a pause, voice calm. "Twenty-eight."

Selindra blinked once. Then laughed, short and incredulous, leaning back with one hand pressed to the booth. "You're joking."

Varik didn't.

Her laughter faded. She looked back at Lucen, studying him anew. The sharpness in her eyes wasn't disbelief anymore, it was calculation.

"Level twenty-eight," she repeated softly. "And yet you…" Her eyes flicked toward the window where the chaos of the earlier dungeon break still smoldered faintly in the distance. "…don't move like level twenty-eight."

Lucen smirked, raising his glass as if in a toast. "'Flattering. But maybe you're just rusty. Should I slow down so you can keep track?'"

The corner of Selindra's mouth curved again. She tilted her head, braid sliding over her shoulder. "You've got a mouth on you. That much is clear. But mouths don't win fights."

Varik's voice slid into the space between them, low and steady. "He's alive. That speaks for itself."

Selindra glanced at him, arching a brow. "Alive because of you?"

Varik didn't answer.

Lucen grinned, swirling the wine in his glass. "'You're fishing hard. You always this nosy, or am I special?'"

Selindra's gaze didn't waver. "Special. Because he doesn't waste time."

Lucen sipped, eyes glittering over the rim. 'She really wants me to crack. Cute.'

The silence stretched again. Outside, a siren wailed distantly, fading as quickly as it came. Inside, the tension pressed tight against every corner of the restaurant.

Selindra finally broke it. "Where'd you come from?"

Lucen tilted his head. "'The train.'"

Her eyes narrowed. "Before that."

"Before that?" He leaned back, arms spreading loose along the booth. "'Birth. You want details? Or do you just like hearing me talk?'"

For the first time, Selindra's composure flickered. A sharp exhale, almost laughter, almost frustration. "Gods, you're insufferable."

Varik's eyes shifted toward Lucen again. "He knows."

Selindra frowned slightly. "Knows what?"

Lucen's smirk sharpened. "'That I'm insufferable. Finally, common ground.'"

Varik didn't elaborate. He didn't need to, not to Lucen, anyway.

Selindra sat back, eyes narrowing once more. "You think your jokes protect you. But all they do is make me want to peel the layers back faster."

Lucen tapped a finger idly against the glass, gaze half-lidded. "'Careful. You peel too hard, you might find nothing underneath. And wouldn't that be boring?'"

Selindra's nails clicked against the tabletop once, deliberate. "You're playing a game."

Lucen's smirk widened. "'Everyone's playing a game. Some of us are just better at hiding the rules.'"

The words hung heavy between them, thick with double meaning.

For a heartbeat, Selindra just looked at him. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. Quiet at first, then fuller, richer, though it held no warmth.

"You're trouble," she said. "That much is certain."

Lucen raised his glass again. "'Finally. An accurate read.'"

She shook her head, turning slightly toward Varik once more. "I don't know what you're doing, keeping him at your side. But it won't stay hidden long. Someone else will notice."

Varik's reply was immediate, firm. "They won't."

Selindra's brow arched, gaze flicking back between the two of them. "Then I'll be the first."

Lucen chuckled, low and amused. "'Darling, you're already late.'"

The sharp look she gave him could have cut steel. But her lips curved, faint and dangerous.

The waiter, pale and nervous, slipped toward the table then, setting down water glasses like he was offering tribute to gods. His hands trembled as he asked, "Will… will you be ordering, or…?"

Selindra didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed on Lucen as she murmured, "Bring me whatever's fresh. And strong tea."

The waiter bobbed his head and fled.

Lucen leaned forward again, grin sharp. "'Guess I'll order dessert after all. I'm in the mood for something sweet.'"

Selindra's laugh was quieter this time, but no softer. "Sweet, hm? Somehow I doubt that."

The silence that followed wasn't empty, it was the weighted pause before another round, another strike, another move in the game neither of them admitted they were playing.

Varik leaned back, watching both with that same calm, unreadable stare, the only anchor in the storm of barbs and smiles.

The rest of the restaurant pretended harder than ever not to watch.

And the three of them sat there, in the echo of broken glass and tension, a triangle of power and curiosity none of the onlookers could hope to understand.