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the bottle on kiba’s coffee table carried a warning label large enough to make most humans reconsider the evening. ninety-six percent alcohol. ryo had read it twice before pouring himself nearly half a glass. “this is either liquor or something you clean an engine with.” across from him, ezio took his own glass, smelled it once, then drank without so much as a change in expression. “both.” ryo looked over. “you know that from experience?” “yes.” the smallest movement touched kiba’s mouth from the other end of the couch. not quite a smile, but close enough for ryo to catch it. the apartment was quiet high above the city, several blocks of seoul reduced to lights beyond the windows. no music. no television. just three glasses, the open bottle between them, and another unopened one waiting beside it. ryo took a proper drink. barely warmth down his throat. he frowned at the glass as though it had personally failed him. “humans actually get drunk off this?” “some go blind,” ezio said. “that seems inconvenient.” “usually is.” kiba finished what remained in his glass in one swallow and set it down. ryo watched him. “you could at least pretend it burns.” “why?” “atmosphere.” “you are providing enough of that.” ezio’s quiet exhale sounded suspiciously like agreement. ryo pointed his glass between them. “this is why nobody invites you two anywhere.” “you invited yourself here,” kiba reminded him. “exactly. otherwise this apartment would stay silent for another century.” kiba reached for the bottle. “tempting.” a laugh slipped out of ryo as he settled farther into the chair, one ankle crossing over the opposite knee. “seriously, though. either of you ever actually gotten drunk?” ezio glanced toward kiba. the progenitor considered the question with far more attention than it deserved. “not from alcohol.” “of course not. i was hoping for one humiliating story.” “you have several centuries of your own.” “those don’t count.” ezio looked over. “why?” “because they’re mine.” “convenient.” ryo drank again before turning toward his brother. “you’re worse. you drink like someone’s grading your posture.” “you drink like someone challenged you.” “someone usually does.” “no one did tonight.” ryo looked down at the warning label on the bottle. “the label did.” ezio’s mouth twitched. “don’t.” “i said nothing.” “your face did.” “barely.” “still counts.” the conversation fell away for a while after that, but none of them bothered filling the silence. centuries had removed any need to speak simply because a room had gone quiet. ryo eventually leaned forward and topped off all three glasses without asking. “rya asked me yesterday why monsters don’t just decide to be nice.” ezio’s attention shifted back to him. “what did you tell her?” “that some can. some choose not to.” ryo rolled the glass slowly between his fingers. “then she asked why we don’t put the bad ones in time-out.” the older witcher looked down at his drink. ryo caught it immediately. “you’re laughing.” “no.” “you absolutely are.” kiba lifted his glass. “the child proposed containment before execution. comparatively civilized.” ryo turned toward him. “do not encourage her. next thing i know, she’ll ask me to build a dungeon.” “you could.” “i know i could. that’s the problem.” ezio took a drink. “eluzia wanted a sword last week.” ryo’s eyebrows went up. “finally.” “no.” “wooden one.” “she specifically requested mine.” that stopped him. “all right. different problem.” kiba looked between the two men. “your offspring possess questionable self-preservation.” “genetic,” ezio said. ryo pointed at him immediately. “from your side.” “we share parents.” “details.” “you were both attempting to get yourselves killed long before i gave you my blood,” kiba said. ezio gave a single nod. “accurate.” ryo stared between them. “why am i the one being attacked in this apartment?” “because you keep speaking,” ezio replied. +