The dining table was lavish enough to make Bob's eyes water. Silver cutlery gleamed, and chandeliers were like spotlights to the lavish display of food.
He and Riven were seated side by side, plates already loaded high, while the others… Well, the others were busy engaging in a silent war.
Leon and Soren would stare daggers at each other every time they clashed. And it happened quite often, they both were placing food on Riven's plate.
"Would you like more truffle butter with your steak, Riven?" Leon asked smoothly, leaning forward.
Soren immediately cut in, scooping the butter dish away with the dexterity of a hawk. "No need. Riven prefers sauce." To be honest, Riven liked all food in general. He was not picky. His mother praised him often for that. And even after transmigration, he retained his foodie taste buds.
The air between them practically crackled, the forks and knives in their hands would have become weapons.
