After everyone had left, only Cliff and Dahlia remained in the room. The heavy atmosphere of the important decisions made earlier had dissipated, but a silence just as weighty now filled the space.
Dahlia rose, ready to leave, but Cliff's firm voice stopped her.
"Please, stay."
She hesitated for a moment, her broad shoulders tensing slightly, but eventually complied, crossing her arms without a word.
Cliff didn't linger on his throne. He walked to a rudimentary cabinet where a carafe of amber liquor rested. He poured a generous amount into a glass, studying it briefly before preparing another for Dahlia.
"Drink," he ordered, holding out the glass.
Dahlia arched an eyebrow but accepted without protest, the fragile object seeming minuscule in her massive hands. The two moved toward the balcony, drawn by the fresh air and the fading light of day.
