The driver walked toward the privy behind the carriage court. His gait was stiff from the disguise, the boots too tight around his ankles. Once out of sight, he exhaled and rolled his shoulders.
A shimmer tugged the air beside him. Quenya appeared, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Both spoke at once.
"What?"
"What?"
They stared a second longer before she squinted. "You're looking... different."
Vencian wiped a thumb under his jaw. "You're the one who signaled. Said he was worth a closer look."
"So you knocked him out and stole his face?"
"Practical decision."
She circled him, curious. "Where's the real driver?"
Vencian lifted his right hand. The small tattoo of teeth glimmered faintly on his palm.
Quenya blinked. "You actually used that? We never tested it on a living human."
"Worked fine."
"That's—" she caught herself. "Then it can store people too."
"Maybe. Feels too easy though." His brow furrowed. "There's always a catch."
