Elias's fingers curled tight around the mug, knuckles whitening as he stared down into the dark tea rather than at the man across from him. The silence pressed in, thick and stifling, and though he didn't speak, the air around him flared with the tension in his frame.
He set the mug down with particular care this time, not looking up, not trusting himself to. A long breath slipped through his nose, steady but thin, and he rose from his chair without a word.
Victor's eyes tracked him immediately, the faint shimmer along his ether‑lined veins pulsing once, as though responding to something unspoken.
"Elias… I don't like repeating myself."
Elias paused mid‑stride, his back to Victor, shoulders squared but rigid, his hands loose at his sides as if he were forcing them not to curl into fists. The tension running through him was palpable, sharp enough to taste in the still air of the dining room.
