The city's glow faded behind them, swallowed by the quiet stretch of road as Dellon's black sedan cut through the damp night.
The hum of the engine and the rhythmic hiss of tires over wet asphalt were the only sounds filling the cabin.
Aidera sat angled toward the window, her chin resting lightly against her palm. Her eyes trailed the blur of streetlights and neon reflections.
She didn't look upset, exactly, just… detached. Like her thoughts weren't in the car at all.
Dellon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, sneaking glances at her.
"You've been quiet since dinner," he finally said. "Not even one snide comment about Ardin's new 'imported' shoes. Should I be worried?"
Her head tilted slightly toward him, her eyes calm and flat. "What's there to say? They were ugly. Everyone already knew."
"Brutal as always. But I mean you. You're usually… I don't know, less ghost-like."
A soft shrug. "I'm just tired."