Nyxander's voice cut through the lingering tension like a blade through silk, its calm authority commanding the attention of all within the battered restaurant. "So, what's your comment on our response to your welcome gift?"
The room held its breath. Kola's gaze flickered, shifting from Kal to Bako, then to Bili, before finally resting on Nyxander. Silence thickened around them, stretching like a drawn bowstring, taut with anticipation.
Then, with a steady breath, Kola straightened, shaking off the lingering weight of his subordinates' support. His movements were slow but deliberate, and as he stepped forward, Kal instinctively mirrored the action, placing himself in Kola's path.
"Do you still want to continue?" Kal asked, his grip adjusting on the axe handle. The rod bounced lightly against his right shoulder, a rhythmic, unspoken warning.