The walk up from the Abyssal Spa to the Casino floor was uncomfortably silent.
Commander Thorne stood with his arms crossed, water dripping from his pauldrons onto the stone steps.
Beside him, High Inquisitor Kaelen was humming a low, vibrating note that sounded suspiciously like a microwave. She was leaning heavily against the railing, her eyes tracking dust motes that weren't there.
"The slime," Thorne muttered, breaking the silence as the gears ground overhead. "It ate the noble."
"It is a therapeutic engulfment," Reed corrected, checking his wet coat cuffs. "Lord Valerius is simply... marinating. He will emerge rejuvenated and, ideally, ready to lose more money."
"It is unnatural," Thorne grumbled. He tapped the chest plate of his armor. "A warrior relies on steel. Not... jelly. And certainly not steam."
He glared at Kaelen, who blew a small puff of white vapor in his direction and giggled.
"I feel like a dumpling," Kaelen announced.
