Ixion sat with the plate of dried cod before him, its salted scent faint, a quiet defiance against a world where such things had grown rare.
'It's warm here.'
The fire in the candles was weak, fed sparingly. But the space itself felt insulated from something larger.
Ixion found that curious.
Cutting into the fish, Ixion took a bite.
'Dry.'
Joe leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded, watching him with that same steady gaze.
"You're thinking too hard, friend. There's nothing interesting about what I said."
Ixion swallowed and let out a quiet breath.
"Maybe you're right. I tend to do that."
Joe chuckled.
"Friend, sorry to say, but I noticed."
Silence settled between them for a moment. Not awkward. Not heavy. Even the four others were quiet, curiously spectating Joe and Pirithous (Ixion).
Ixion tapped a finger lightly against the wooden table.
"Tell me something, Joe."
"Go on."
