Void sat within an inn, sipping coffee with refined movement.
The steam rose in lazy curls from the dark brew, carrying the rich, earthy aroma that filled the cozy, dimly lit space, wooden beams creaking softly overhead.
With him were Isobel and Michael, sitting at the table clueless on the reason they were at an inn when they should be conquering the galaxy.
The wooden chairs groaned under their weight, the flicker of candlelight dancing across their faces, casting long shadows that mirrored their growing impatience.
"Come on, man. We should be enjoying the thrill of battle. We should already be conquering this galaxy. Not be in an inn having a sip of coffee," Michael tried to reason with Void, impatience for battle settling in his heart.
His fingers drummed on the scarred tabletop, the rhythm betraying the restless energy coiling in his muscles, eyes flicking toward the door with barely contained eagerness.
