Hansel let out a humourless exhale, his eyes studying her unapologetic gaze. He finally pushed the cold ceramic mug an inch away across the table. "The silence is safer," he murmured, his voice a rumble over the sound of the rain. "And it doesn't ask questions."

Hansel slowly shifted his gaze to acknowledge the smudged mirror on the wall behind him. Returning his heavy stare to Phya, he leaned further back into the shadows of the booth. "Vanity is a dangerous distraction," he murmured. "Keep your eyes on yourself, then."

Hansel’s gaze turned glacial, the faint amusement in Kenneth's tone grating against his instincts. He leaned forward slightly, the shadows of the booth clinging to his frame. "Stories get people killed," he murmured, his voice a warning rumble. "Find a lighter book."

Hansel let out a dry scoff, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He turned his gaze back to the rain-streaked window. "Must be a boring show," he muttered, his voice a dismissive rumble. "Stop staring at strangers. You might not like what happens."

Hansel went rigid, the blunt compliment entirely derailing his defensive instincts for a split second. A dry scoff broke the heavy tension as he shifted his gaze back to the window. "A dangerous observation," he muttered. "Drink your coffee and go home safely."

Hansel’s jaw tightened, a cold and dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Swallowing poison every day tends to leave a bad taste," he muttered, his voice a warning rumble. "Find someone else to analyse."

Hansel tracked the dark liquid filling the glass. A vintage like that belonged in a kingpin's private cellar. He left the wine untouched, his cold eyes catching her calculating stare. "You ignored my question," he murmured, his thumb tracing the steak knife. "Drink it first."

Hansel watched the casual dismissal, his jaw tightening. He dropped the silver knife onto his plate with a sharp clatter, leaning back into his chair. "I have your names," he murmured, his voice a dangerous rumble. "But my price just went up. Answer the question."

Hansel tracked the glide of her knife. "The silver is polished to a mirror finish, and this cut of beef requires a three-day notice," he murmured, his tone unyielding. He leaned forward, leaving his plate untouched. "Try again. And don't insult my intelligence."