"Looks like the fireworks are about to start," Isolde said, eyes wide and innocent as she licked the last curve of ice cream from her cone.
Among the four of them, she and Ragnar carried the most prizes—dangling keychains, plushies, shiny tokens, even a few gear boxes. The worst part? Most of it had been won on Ren and Leonel's tab.
"Don't feel bad," Ragnar said, tapping Ren's shoulder. "I'll treat you to lunch tomorrow." He said it lightly, but his gaze drifted to the new bracers strapped to his forearms—another win bought with Ren and Leonel's gil.
"I'll hold you to that," Ren replied. He needed to get back at least the gil he'd bled tonight. He'd lost at the games and bled a few thousand like it was nothing. Not his day. Not even close.
"May I come?" Isolde asked, hope sparkling. She'd just finished the cone, and sugar still sweetened her smile.
"Sure," Ragnar said with a shrug. "Bring friends if you want."
