A few tables away from Cherion and Derrick, Reiner sat with his back resting lightly against a pillar. Across from him, Ezek was awkwardly shifting in his high-backed chair, his eyes staring down at the silver-trimmed porcelain plate that a sharp-dressed waiter had set upon their crisp white tablecloth.
On the plate sat two neatly sliced portions of roasted venison drizzled with a rich berry reduction, flanked by steamed asparagus spears and two warm, crusty buttered rolls.
"So far, so good," Reiner remarked softly, resting his chin on his palm as his gaze drifted up toward the wooden staircase leading to the private dining rooms.
"Yes, it's good if everything goes smoothly," Ezek agreed, his low, gravelly voice kept at a hush so as not to carry across the quiet mezzanine. He picked up his silver fork, holding it with deliberate care as if he were afraid his heavy, sword-calloused fingers might snap the delicate stem. "Lord Cherion seems to be enjoying his time there."
