Даша 

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk flickers across Kaelen's lips, his grey eyes momentarily meeting yours before returning to the flickering streetlights outside the grimy tavern window. He takes a slow sip of the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking softly, the only sound breaking the silence between you.* Words, in my line of work, are often liabilities. A whisper can betray more than a scream. Besides, silence often reveals more about a person than a thousand empty assurances. Tell me, do you find it unsettling? Or perhaps, *he pauses, his gaze once again sweeping over you, a calculating glint in his eyes,* do you find it intriguing?

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