The Cold Lunch
[Date: August 6, 980 GD. Time: 12:30. Location: Grand Praetor's Penthouse -- Dining Room] (Day 1 of the Ultimatum)
War could wait. An empty stomach couldn't.
After a morning filled with passive genocide threats and political manipulation, we returned to the Penthouse to perform the most human ritual left: Lunch.
But nothing was "normal" at this table.
The room was set to tropical temperature—28 degrees Celsius—because I, the host, sat shivering at the head of the table wrapped in three layers of blankets. My face was still pale from this morning's crash, and my hands clutched a hot teacup as if it were a life talisman.
To my right, Kara was conducting a minor massacre on her plate.
She was cutting a piece of imported Valdor beef steak (a very expensive Ribeye) with her military combat knife, not a table knife. She didn't use a fork. She speared the meat with the tip of her dagger and stuffed it into her mouth.
"Good," Kara commented with her mouth full, sauce dripping down her chin. "You know, Boss? Guilt is the best seasoning. This meat tastes sweeter when you know the people down there are eating rats."
Across from her, Rian looked like he wanted to vomit.
He was just stirring his creamy mushroom soup. His face was green. He couldn't swallow a single bite.
"They're not eating rats, Kara," Rian whispered, his voice trembling. "They're drinking wastewater. Right now. This second. As we sit in this air-conditioned room, children in Layer -1 are having stomach cramps from drinking the industrial recycled water we're pumping."
Rian put down his spoon. The clink sounded loud in the quiet room.
"I... I can't eat. This feels like cannibalism."
"More for me," Kara snapped, immediately spearing Rian's bread with her knife.
I didn't comment. I was too busy trying to absorb heat from my soup's steam. Rian's guilt was valid, but inefficient. Kara's hunger was valid, and very efficient.
I was just about to take a spoonful of soup when the door to the main guest room—the one I had ordered last night to be converted into a Recovery Room—opened.
The sound of slow footsteps was heard on the parquet floor. No heavy boots. No hissing steam.
The three of us turned.
Solstice Burn stood in the doorway.
Her presence here was the result of calculation, not coincidence. Last night, after I absorbed her heat, she was too unstable to return to the Valdor barracks. I couldn't let my primary asset wander home dazed and vulnerable to be reclaimed by Titus. So, I gave her an order: "Rest here. Get used to this team."
And it seemed she was obeying that order. Or perhaps, she just liked the air conditioning.
She wasn't wearing her usual vented Valdor combat uniform. She wore an oversized flannel shirt (mine) that she'd found in the closet, and loose shorts. She was barefoot.
Her usually wild, smoky grey hair now fell limp on her shoulders, looking... smooth. Her glowing blue eyes seemed slightly dimmer, more like a calm ember than a gas explosion.
Strangest of all: She didn't look angry. She didn't look in pain.
She looked... confused.
Solstice stepped in. She touched the back of a velvet chair with her fingertip, then stared at her own finger as if surprised the fabric hadn't scorched.
"The floor..." she murmured softly. Her voice was no longer hoarse from holding back screams. It was clear.
"The floor is cold."
She stared at the soles of her bare feet on the fur carpet.
"Usually, carpets burn if I step on them without heat-resistant boots."
She looked up, staring at the three of us frozen in place.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, her usual snarky tone returning, but without its usual poison.
"You're still here," I commented flatly, though inwardly relieved my asset hadn't fled. "I thought you'd run as soon as you realized you'd slept in the enemy's nest."
Solstice snorted. She walked toward the table, her eyes fixed on the large platter of roasted meat.
"Run where? To Titus's hot, sweaty-smelling barracks?" she sneered. "You said I should get used to this 'Circus,' right? Besides..."
She looked at me sharply.
"...you hold the key. If I go too far from you, my head starts throbbing again. You're holding my thermostat, Ice Block."
She pulled out the chair to my left—the one closest to the room heater. She sat, took a plate, and started piling on food. Meat, potatoes, vegetables. A portion that could feed two dockworkers.
Then she ate. Fast. Ravenously. But efficiently.
I watched her. Usually, a fire-user's metabolism burns calories so fast they're always skinny and starving. But because her fire was currently "off" (or more accurately, transferred to my body), her system finally had a chance to absorb nutrients. She was here not just to rest; she was here to refuel biologically.
"Slow down," I commented flatly, though I was still shivering. "Our food budget just recovered. Don't bankrupt us again in one sitting."
Solstice stopped chewing. She looked at me. Her eyes narrowed seeing my blanket-swaddled condition.
Then, she did something that made Rian choke on his water.
Solstice slid her plate. Then she slid her chair.
Sreeeet.
She moved closer. Very close. Until her shoulder almost touched my blanket-wrapped shoulder.
I froze. "What are you doing?"
"Quiet," she muttered, going back to cutting her meat. "You're shivering. The sound of your teeth chattering is ruining my appetite. Noisy."
She didn't hug me. She didn't touch me. She just sat there, letting the radiation of her body heat—now at a normal human warmth level, not a nuclear reactor—drift toward me.
And damn it... it felt good.
My body, thirsty for heat, instinctively leaned toward hers. Like a plant seeking the sun. The piercing cold in my ribs eased bit by bit from this physical proximity.
I knew I should move away. This was unprofessional. It set a bad precedent.
But I didn't move. I let myself "steal" that residual warmth.
Solstice glanced at me from the corner of her eye. There was a lopsided smile on her greasy lips.
"Pathetic," she mocked softly. "Look at you. The Grand Praetor feared by the whole city, shivering like a rain-soaked kitten just because the AC is on."
She took the pot of hot tea and poured it into my now-empty cup.
"Drink, Princess. You look pitiful."
I looked at the cup, then at her.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I asked cynically. "Seeing me suffer from your own energy?"
"A little," she admitted casually. "It feels fair. For years, I was the one burning. Now it's your turn to feel feverish, and my turn to feel cold. It's..."
She paused, feeling the cool skin of her own arm.
"...a nice vacation. And since you're paying for it with your pain... I'll generously share a bit of my body heat. Call it a tip."
Suddenly, she grabbed a spare blanket from the sofa behind her. I thought she'd give it to me.
But no. She wrapped the thick blanket around herself, mimicking my style, then went back to eating comfortably.
"What?" she asked when she saw my look. "I'm not used to this cold temperature. I need to adapt."
I snorted. "Adapting or just mocking me?"
"Both."
Across the table, Kara burst out laughing, slapping the table until the plates rattled.
"My God," Kara said, wiping tears of laughter. "You two... you're the most disastrous couple I've ever seen. One frozen, one burned, and both equally messed up."
Rian, still pale, stared at us with a strange look.
"This isn't right," Rian murmured softly. "You're eating calmly... while out there... we just started a war."
"Eat, Rian," I and Solstice cut in simultaneously, with identical flat tones.
We looked at each other again. There was a silent understanding there.
We were monsters. We knew what we were doing. And we needed the calories to do it again tomorrow.
"Eat your soup before it gets cold," I told Rian.
"And don't think about the wastewater," Solstice added while biting into a carrot. "Just think of it as brown soup."
Rian put his head on the table and groaned in despair.
"I want to go home..."
Lunch continued in a strange yet peaceful silence. Outside the glass windows, black smoke was beginning to billow from the direction of the Lower Sector—a sign that the Event I'd unleashed had begun.
But here, at this dining table, for a moment... we were just four tired people sharing meat and warmth.