The tension in the room lingered like smoke after a fire, thick and suffocating. Mary Ann perched on the armrest of Fenrir's chair, her eyes scanning his face for a reaction.
"We don't have to entertain Joseph's nonsense, you know," she began, her voice measured. "If you truly wanted to regain the use of your legs, we could just steal the remedy from the temple. They have artifacts and remedies tucked away in their vaults that could work miracles for you."
Fenrir leaned his head back, gazing at her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
"Steal from the temple? How crude. Do you take me for a common thief?"
Mary Ann smirked. "You're a demon, Fenrir. Isn't that sort of thing in your job description?"
He chuckled, the sound low and resonant. "Perhaps. But I have a better idea."
Her brow arched. "Better than walking again?"
