One potato, two potato

Kellam watched Nairn pack the books. When Nairn addressed him again, Kellam allowed a slow, deliberate pause to fill the space, his smirk returning faintly as though savoring the moment.

Kellam, he replied evenly, his voice carrying the weight of someone unbothered by approval—or its absence. Tell her you met Kellam. I’m sure it will spark an interesting conversation.

He inclined his head slightly, a gesture halfway between courtesy and dismissal, his tone softening just enough to brush the edge of civility. Good luck with the cooking, by the way. Let’s hope the house survives. And with that, Kellam turned back to the shelves, his hand trailing over the spines of books as though the exchange had been nothing more than a passing breeze.

@Nairn Neirdre