Thalus adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes glinting with an air of superiority as he leaned slightly forward from his place behind the Seer. The corners of his mouth curled into a sneer, and his voice, calm but laced with mockery, carried across the table.
"I do hope you've prepared pork meat for the Seer's meal," he said, his tone light but dripping with insult. "After all, nothing complements such a barren, wasteland ambiance quite like a taste of the local culture."
The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Barak's smile remained fixed, but the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his irritation.
