Heldon knew they had a lot to talk about and didn't object to a conversation. Though he had only kept a few acquaintances, he wasn’t particularly timid. In fact, he was quite well-spoken.
Yet a perfect storm of factors like Tival’s closed off, darkened gaze, and his flat, sharp tone, paired with the fact that not minutes ago they had been deeply intimate, made Heldon tongue-tied.
It also filled him neck high with an icy sense of dread.
“I…uh…ok, I mean, of course, yeah.” Heldon hastily buttoned up his shirt, suddenly too exposed.
Tival propped himself up, his muscles flexing under the tight green bandages. Heldon would have gone to help him, but Tival had completely closed himself off from the negotiator.
“As you probably figured out, Ryce killed my father as well as yours,” Tival started, locking eyes with Heldon as hard amber onto soft ash.
“Yea-ahh.” Heldon winced as needles of pain darted down his neck from the mention of Ryce.