[i][center][color=8882be][h1]  ༒ ༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻ Kaelen Moros ༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻ ༒ [/h1][/color][/center][/i]
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Kaelen leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed as he watched Vitek and the barkeep exchange words. The air in the dimly lit tavern hummed with the low murmur of patrons and the music being played, but his focus remained sharp on the interaction. Tension had coiled in his shoulders like a spring ready to snap, but now it began to unwind, thread by thread. He sensed no undercurrent of threat from the man behind the bar—no deceitful glint in his eyes, no subtle shift in stance that screamed danger. It was fortunate for the barkeep, really. Kaelen and Vitek could dismantle him in the blink of an eye, tearing through flesh and bone with the ferocity of beasts unleashed. Though if he were honest with himself, Vitek would likely shoulder most of the carnage. Kaelen imagined himself lounging nearby, offering a quip or two just to needle the big man, his laughter echoing over the chaos. Either way, the spectacle would be entertaining. But sliders did sound tempting—those greasy, savoury delights—and if bloodshed was on the menu, he'd prefer it after a hearty meal. Or perhaps they could grab the food to go, savouring it amidst the carnage. [i]Stop it, Kaelen,[/i] he chided himself inwardly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. This was no time for plotting hypotheticals of murder; they were here for respite, not ruin.

It was then that he noticed Vitek drifting away, his gaze going distant, as if the tavern's lively ambience had faded into a fog. A flicker of concern sparked in Kaelen's chest, sharp and unbidden, before he swiftly buried it beneath his usual mask of indifference. To an outsider, it might look like the lycan was simply lost in the melody of the music. But Kaelen knew better—knew the shadows that lurked in Vitek's mind, the ghosts that could pull him under without warning. He had no desire to be on the receiving end of that wrath; dying wasn't on his agenda today. Maybe tomorrow, if the mood struck. [color=8493ca]"Whiskey for me, the strongest you've got,"[/color] Kaelen said smoothly, flashing a charming smile that could disarm even the most wary soul. [color=8493ca]"And another lemonade,"[/color] he added, glancing sidelong at Vitek with a hint of playful mischief in his eyes. [color=8493ca]"Please,"[/color] he tacked on almost as an afterthought, his voice laced with that effortless politeness that hid his sharper edges.

A breath of relief escaped him as Vitek snapped back to the present. Kaelen masked his unease with a low, amused chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. [color=8493ca]"No need to apologise, my friend,"[/color] he murmured, his tone warm and reassuring. He picked up the empty glass of lemonade, tipping it back to crunch on the remaining ice cubes, the sharp crack echoing faintly in his ears before he set it down with a soft clink. [color=8493ca]"We all have our moments,"[/color] he whispered under his breath, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as his mind wandered to his own haunted nights—waking in a cold sweat, heart pounding from nightmares that clawed at the edges of his sanity, or those sudden lapses where the world blurred and memories surged uninvited. It was a vulnerability he rarely acknowledged, even to himself, but in this quiet exchange, it felt oddly shared.

[color=8493ca]"Food has been organised, and the drinks shouldn't take too long,"[/color] Kaelen chirped, his voice brightening as he slipped back into his usual, irreverent self. The tavern's warmth wrapped around him like a familiar cloak, the scent of spiced ale and sizzling meat from the kitchen promising better things ahead. For now, the shadows could wait; there was camaraderie to savor and stories to unfold.