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    Summary

    Five hundred years of training and habit should’ve had him reading the room before the door swung shut behind him: the exits, the people carrying weapons, the drunks worth watching. The sober ones, for that matter. But for once in his long and careful life, habit never got the chance, because immediately, he could only stare at one single thing. His gaze had snagged on something so unusual, he couldn’t snap out of the trance. For across the floor of one of the most seediest taverns of Velaris, Nesta was laughing.

    It wasn’t a smirk, or that sharp smile he knew so well. Her head was thrown back, her hair half-fallen out of her usual coronet it had begun the evening in, and she was laughing so hard at something a stranger had shouted into her ear that she nearly stumbled into the woman dancing behind her. The stranger caught her around the waist and Nesta caught herself on his shoulder. For a moment, Cassian stopped breathing, the unfamiliar twinge in his chest and the deep, sinking feeling of dread in his stomach suddenly overwhelming.

    —————

    Cassian finds Nesta in one of the seedier taverns of Velaris and comes to the realization that they aren’t that different after all.

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