The Gates of Vellore
"I see. That's reasonable."
He swung his head, allowing the sun to catch in his red hair as he gazed out through the slitted window. His eyes relaxed, though it was impossible to determine if it was real or calculated, a mask he affected with ease.
The air between them settled into stillness. For the first time in hours, Leon granted himself the indulgence of relief. He breathed slowly, the exhalation shallow enough to go unseen, a quiet concession to the peace which hung in the enclosed space. Zetch's presence, while unnerving, had settled into nearly companionable silence, no queries nagging, no words pushing.
