It was jam-packed. Despite agreeing to find a larger table to occupy, there were still a lot of people and they were all squeezed together. Except for Sir Leon de Harrington, people were giving him enough elbow room but it felt like he was being packed in a can of tuna.
But could he really blame anyone?
Maybe he was thinking too hard now when most people wouldn't even give a passing thought to this. Han tried to bring his fork into his mouth and nearly stabbed himself as somebody bumped shoulders with him—and he regretted his action as he placed it down for a moment and eyed the guy he was sitting next to.
It was Diov, now he wasn't wearing his gauntlets but he kept moving and bumping into him accidentally. And on his right side was a girl. He wasn't sure if the young woman got the short end of the stick and ended up seated beside him, but he didn't know her and he was trying not to tumble close to her and knock the glass out of her hand.
