Milton's glare sliced across the table. "Control yourself."
Raul only grinned, undeterred. "What? You think I don't recognize that type? Reminds me of that little founder of Blackrose." He chuckled, voice low and oily. "Beautiful, untouchable, always slipping away. I almost caught him once, years ago. Flew right out of my grasp before I could taste him."
The room went quiet for a heartbeat. The noble's brows lifted in faint amusement. "You mean him? General Zephyr?"
"The very same," Raul said, grinning wide enough to show teeth. "A shame. I like clever things that know when to beg."
Milton's voice cut through the heavy air like a blade. "Enough."
Raul only shrugged, flicking his cigar ash onto the table. "Fine. You're no fun anymore, Milton."
