The city had a way of making you forget what silence sounded like. Even in the dead of night, it breathed, whispers slipping through alleys, the shuffle of feet in the dark, the distant clatter of a drunken fight spilling out of a tavern. It never stopped, never let up.
Vance and I moved through the filth like we belonged there, which, in a way, we did. The backstreets belonged to the kind of people who had nothing left to lose, or worse, the ones who had already lost everything and just didn't care anymore.
Vance had adjusted quickly, too quickly. His movements were perfectly smooth now, his eyes sharper. The way he walked, the way he kept pace with me, it was all instinct, and with every passing minute it became a habit, it became a skill. There was no fumbling, no hesitation, just effortless adaptation. It was impressive. It was also unsettling.
