<div class="floatleft">(https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/442/653/large/oscar-acosta-rivera-noir-elf.jpg?1461787851)</div>As Kirion spoke briefly of his past, he realized he had no idea what the elf had done before entering the periphery of Ingram’s web of necessary knowledge. Arash was almost a complete mystery. Undoubtedly, Ingram knew more about the two than they knew of him, but he still knew less than he preferred. Maximum surprise mitigation was a policy of his. There was never a need to be less prepared than was feasible, to give someone else more power over you than was absolutely necessary. Knowing a person meant that you could prepare. It meant you had a decreased chance of being fucked over. That was something Ingram was keen to avoid.<br/><br/>He walked from the chamber with his new acquaintances, the guards subtly urging them along. He had assumed the event would end with the ceremony. On a typical night, he would have been out the door and halfway down the street the instant the ritual’s light faded. Instead, he followed the herd into the courtyard. The noise and energy was overwhelming. His head spun with the maelstrom of snatched phrases and ringing laughter. When Kirion slipped away, he felt something akin to panic. Ingram felt like a visitor to a foreign land whose guide had left him in the center of a crowded street. He didn’t know the customs here, or the language. Didn’t have so much as a map.<br/><br/>He glanced at Arash, somewhat awkwardly. Small talk was not his strong suit, so he settled on the truth. “Fuck, I hate parties.”<br/><br/>Kirion flitted back to them, simmering with lively elegance. Three goblets and a decanter were held in his slender hands. Thank god. The guide had not only returned, he returned bearing booze.<br/><br/>The tucked away table is quieter, calmer. Ingram is grateful for the modest respite.<br/><br/>Kirion lifted the decanter with admirable showmanship, low light catching his high cheekbones. The elf’s lips parted and he inhaled deliberately. Then he exhaled. A subtle lattice of frost crawled across the glass, then quickly faded. Ingram half-smiled. Neat trick. He was sure matronly nobles ate that right up.<br/><br/>“Of course.” Ingram leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers behind his neck. “I’m an open book.”