"Quite a lot to unpack there," Ludwig said, his voice slower now, more measured as he leaned back into the strange, too-comfortable chair. The wood beneath him didn't creak. It simply adjusted, silently, unnervingly yielding to the shape of his body as though molded by will alone. "But we're back to ground zero, aren't we?" he continued, watching her with faint suspicion. "What do you need from me, or as you said, what do I need from you? Because frankly, I'm pretty fine with what I'm doing right now."
His eyes drifted toward the steaming cup before him, catching the faintest curl of vapor rising from the rim. It smelled faintly of lavender, or something akin to it, clean, herbal, but tinged with something sharp. Metal, perhaps. The scent clung to the air like dust in old sunlight.
