The darkness of space enveloped the shuttle as it streaked away from Draconis Prime, its occupants silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Vela, still in her masquerade dress, sat at the controls, her fingers dancing over the lit panels with a practiced ease. The tension of the night still clung to her, a palpable thing that tightened around her chest.
Loxley leaned against the doorway, watching her. The low light of the control panel illuminated his face, casting deep shadows that seemed to accentuate the sharp angles of his jaw. He was still in his gala attire, the mask now hanging loosely around his neck, a reminder of the night's deception.
"Care for a celebratory drink?" he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was light, but his eyes held a depth that spoke of the night's close calls.
Vela shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. "We're not out of the woods yet, Loxley."