The eyes have settled. You are still in the center of this - this arena. That's what it is, you realize in a moment of clarity. Machia did not book a single table, she booked the entire center of the room. The women in their beautiful dresses are not where they are because of their own decisions; they are props. Placed where they are so that they would all have perfect sight lines through to you, surrounding you with a ring of eyes, transforming this cafe into a stage. 

A maid comes and sets the coffee in front of you. It shines, a black so depthless it can only be seen in the shadow. From that void, Machia's reflection watches you - a relaxed and thoughtful curiosity.

The maid sets a cake in front of her too. A dark chocolate base, almost as rich as your coffee, but crowned with cream and set with alternating oranges and lemons. She doesn't touch it. "We're playing by the same rules, you know?" she said. "I don't get my treat unless I earn it either. But I'm not testing my performance at this table, I'm testing my performance back when I had you tied down and was working on you. Past Machia is fighting for your victory so future Machia gets to have this lovely cake."

She set the remote on the table. Flexed her fingers, settled them into place. You could almost feel those fingers settle into place on your reins.

"But present Machia is your enemy," she said brightly. Her hands rolled over the device. Those hands, so much stronger than the electric tug of her reins. "Can you beat her?"