Dawin slowly stopped drinking, the glass still at his lips, but he didn't lower it. He leaned back, studying Hades over the rim. His gaze was now shrewd, analytical. "You look unsettled, Hades. That's new."
There was a pause. Long enough to feel deliberate. Almost companionable. Almost. A faint sound tapped into the space. It was the slow, rhythmic drumming of Hades's finger against the table's edge. His gaze remained steady on his brother.
"Should I find it delightful then?" Hades asked calmly, voice smooth.
Dawin finally lowered the glass, the motion precise. He placed it neatly on a coaster, then reached for the linen napkin beside his plate, dabbing at his lips with the ease of someone hosting a gala rather than engaged in subtle warfare.
"You're speaking like I've crossed some line," Dawin replied lightly, with the kind of smile only well-trained diplomats or devout narcissists could pull off.
