The man's words lingered in the air, calm and unhurried:
"Let me lead you to your room."
It even sounded like a suggestion, like he was casually offering, and if they didn't want to follow, they could just remain here.
Drahon pushed back his chair, glancing briefly at Ayvira and Devon. None of them spoke. Somehow, it felt wrong to break the quiet now.
This place carried such a mythic flair that Drahon was starting to feel nervous about speaking at all.
And so they all nodded in unison.
"Sure," Devon added, his voice very… very… very calm.
The horned man stepped away from the table, his movements precise, as though each step had been measured before he took it. That made Drahon's thought of him being an NPC start to sound real and no longer just speculation.
The man's black suit remained spotless, not a single crease disturbed, and his posture stayed as straight as a drawn blade.
