The waitress appeared like a ghost, her steps silent on the plush carpet.
She balanced a silver tray with practiced grace, but her eyes were fixed entirely on Vesper. As she set down their plates, she leaned far closer to him than necessary, her low neckline on full display.
"Your dinner, Overlord Vesper," she purred, her voice dripping with honey. Her fingers lingered on his shoulder as she placed his plate down, trailing along his arm. "If you need anything else—anything at all—just call for me personally."
Blazar's fork clattered against her plate. A low growl rumbled in her throat as she watched the woman's shameless display.
The waitress either didn't notice or didn't care. She bent over to adjust Vesper's napkin, pressing her chest practically against his face. "I get off work at midnight," she whispered, loud enough for Blazar to hear, before walking away.
