[Third Person].
Draven did not rise when Dennis entered.
He remained seated, one ankle resting over his knee, posture relaxed, but his eyes sharpened the moment the heavy bag was placed on the floor between them.
He didn't even need to ask questions or make guesses about the contents of the bag as the clinking, jingling sounds of the coins reached his ears, followed by the familiar iron scent.
At the same time, Wanda stepped forward as though nothing were amiss, her expression carefully composed, her lips curving into a polite, almost nostalgic smile.
"Draven," she greeted warmly. "It's been a while."
Dennis took a step back, his arms crossing over his chest, clearly enjoying himself.
Draven inclined his head slightly. There was no smile or warmth radiating from him. "Wanda. Why have you come?"
