Vencian stepped into the Marendil mansion and walked straight into Larion's office without slowing. He was already seated when the door shut, his back against the chair, a small coin-like disc rolling over his knuckles in a tight loop. His eyes tracked the motion, not the woman across the desk.
The disc halted between his fingers. He closed his hand around it and held still.
The woman opposite him rested her chin on both hands, elbows planted, lips curved. Her voice came light and dry.
"You look a little different than last time, Lord Vicorra."
Vencian's gaze drifted past her to the bookcase along the wall, stopping on a shelf where the bindings leaned unevenly. He spoke while lowering his hand and setting the disc on the desk, the metal clicking once before his sentence finished.
"I'm in a hurry, so if you would be so kind as to fetch your father, my lady, I can speak with him."
