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The sounds of cards. He shuffled, she watched, eyes round and wide, intent.


Flat, flat, flat.


She mocked the sound silently against the top of her mouth with her tongue.


Flat, flat, flat- then a flurry as he flipped through them.


For an instant her eyes widened further, before settling back as they had been. Several cards now rested face down in front of her. His eyes turning toward her face for the first time, he placed the rest of the deck square in the center of the rounded table.


Cold and tired was that look. Lips twitched, hints of disgust flashing over them. Gods, he was tired. ..
A hand motion. Her turn. She made an obscure move before tucking her cards back into a neat pile in the palm of her hand.


“The war ended?”


Her question was posed calmly enough, but she knew from that instant it was far from innocent. His half lidded eyes flitted from hers to her mouth, then back. Muscles pulled in his brows, expressing aggravation.


“Life ended.” Again, disgust quivered in his mouth. “It all ended.”


Flat.


The card was put down, and he kept the rest of his deck where he could see it. Unlike her.
There was little reaction on her part. The wide, observing eyes hardly shifted from his face, as if the words didn’t matter. They did.


“Yet you’re here.”


The tip of her tongue swept over her lips after the words. A little guilty, really; he shouldn’t have to talk about that. But she wanted to know. Perhaps he understood, judging from the way the lines in his forehead decreased.


Flat.


He eyed the card she placed down. Pure luck, that move. If only he had that luck.


“There were caravans passing the grounds. They took what they could while their backs were turned. Sick, wounded. Took the dead as well. Filth.”


To that, she raised a brow, lowering her gaze to his wide palm and the cards he was now focusing on.


“They saved your life.”


“They saved my body.”


Lips had curled back, the revulsion he had held at bay now showing in full. Pale, sharp teeth stared back at her, and she watched interestedly as they interlocked.


“Not my life. My life died on the field.”


His card was chosen. Despite all the feeling his face expressed, it was placed silently with hers. Common self control. A solider couldn’t not have it. She admired him for it.


A long while, this latest move was contemplated without her mind truly being involved. Her hand was shuffled quietly, and she spoke in an equal undertone.


“You’d like to be dead, wouldn’t you?”


He didn’t even bat an eyelash.


“Yes.”


Her hand twitched, and slipped from the card she had been about to choose. A moment, then a sigh. Eyes slipped closed, but couldn’t stand to stay that way.


“A fantastic new addition.”


Flat.


The card was put down without even checking, her fair mood and attention gone dry. Right along with her tone. A wry smile finished it all off.


“You won’t kill yourself, though.”


Now he did react. Frowned.


“You sound certain.”


Her smile heightened to a dim smirk.


“You’re no masochist. You’re no quitter either. You’ll wander until you find a new cause, won’t you?”


She could see the muscles in his cheek twitch when she said it, see the vein in his temple start to throb. It just made her grin wider. How she loved to dance on nerves.


“It is what I was born for.”


His cards were becoming more and more quiet as time went on, in spite of his mounting rage. This one. A good move. Yet there was no triumph to be felt. Instead, his jaw quivered and set.


“You pry.”


The darkness in her eyes vanished, replaced by the interest she displayed before. The slightest tilt of her head, as a hand passed through short hair.


“I’ll do more than that. It’s what I was born for.”