Dragnelle stepped out of the café, her pace unhurried as she made her way down the quiet street. The cane in her hand tapped softly against the pavement, the rhythm casual, almost whimsical. Her lips curved in a faint, easy smile as Mioura's car roared off behind her, the screech of tires fading into the distance.
Reaching a nondescript car parked a few spaces away, she let her hand trail over the roof with a light, deliberate touch before leaning down toward the open driver's window. The playful tilt of her head and the glint in her eyes made it impossible to ignore her presence.
"You got all that?" she asked smoothly, her tone as breezy as though she were asking about the weather.
Inside, Mickaël sat rigidly in the driver's seat, the dim glow from a recording device illuminating the hard lines of his face. His jaw was set, his gaze sharp as he met her eyes. He didn't immediately answer, his silence heavy with something unspoken.
Dragnelle chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to tease him. "Oh, come on," she said, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned a little closer. "You can't tell me you weren't impressed. That was some of my best work."
Mickaël finally set the recording device down on the dashboard, leaning back slightly, though his eyes never left her face. "You were reckless," he said flatly, but there was no real heat in his voice. Instead, it carried something else—a wary fascination. "If she'd caught on—"
"She did," Dragnelle interrupted lightly, waving a hand as if brushing the thought away. "You worry too much, Mickaël. That's why you need me." She straightened, her smile widening as she gestured toward the passenger seat. "Mind if I join you? Comparing notes is so much easier when I'm not leaning through a window."
Mickaël hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he unlocked the door with a reluctant nod. Dragnelle slipped into the seat beside him, her movements smooth and unhurried, as though she had all the time in the world.
The car felt smaller with her inside, her presence filling the space effortlessly. Mickaël started the engine, his fingers tightening briefly on the steering wheel before he spoke.
"You think everything is a game," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the road as they pulled away from the curb. "Even this."
Dragnelle tilted her head, studying him for a moment before replying, her voice light but edged with something sharper. "Life is a game, Mickaël. Rules to bend, pieces to move, victories to claim." She tapped her cane lightly against the floor. "The only difference is how you play it."
"And how do you play it?" he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
"With style," she replied, flashing him a grin that was equal parts charm and challenge. "And I always win."
Mickaël huffed a soft laugh despite himself, shaking his head. "You're impossible."