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... he occasional scrape of cutlery, the whisper of waiters too nervous to linger, and Selindra's nails still tapping a patient, predatory rhythm on the table.

Her eyes stayed locked on Lucen like she'd already decided he was prey worth chasing.

"You hide behind words," she said finally, her voice low, deliberate. "Behind jokes, smiles, that lazy posture. It's a mask."

Lucen tilted his head, the smirk tugging lazily at his mouth. "'Maybe I just enjoy talking. You ever conside ...

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