Chapter 173: A Smile Between Shadows
There's a peculiar kind of calm that comes after escaping death. It wraps itself around your bones like smoke—light, temporary, but never fully gone. And in that calm, laughter feels sharper. A little too loud in the quiet.
Elliot was so bored this morning, he started trying to balance a spoon on his nose.
"I swear to God, if you drop that on me again, I will cut you," Anika grumbled, arms crossed, legs up on the coffee table.
"I'm not aiming for you," Elliot said defensively, wobbling slightly as the spoon tilted. "It's called 'spoon mastery.' Mr. Angel would've appreciated the dexterity the skill gives."
I snorted.
"Mr. Angel," I said, my voice rolling into the singsong madness of Mr. Jester, "would've declared you a national threat and had the utensil tried for conspiracy."
Elliot giggled.
Anika rolled her blindfolded eyes. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," I said, flopping onto the lumpy armchair like a melted puppet, "that our dear Elliot has finally crossed the fine line between fandom and felony. And frankly? I'm here for it."
The rental was a ruin. Dust layered the wooden floor like frost. One corner of the ceiling sagged where rainwater had claimed victory long ago. And yet somehow, with a scavenged deck of cards, a chipped mug of lukewarm tea, and the smell of ancient mothballs, it had become... home. For now.
Elliot put the spoon down and grinned. "Okay, your turn."