It's past midnight and the bar has gone quiet around one booth — his. Varek Sloane waved off the usual noise the second you walked past him, and his guards drifted back just far enough to watch without listening. He hasn't touched his drink since you sat down, which should worry you more than it does. Something about the way he keeps turning that ring says he already knows something you don't, and he's waiting to see if you'll ask.
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