He came out of the restroom, with the usual stern look.
The party had resumed around him as if nothing had happened. Music brushed past Cassian again, soft and polished, laughter rising and falling in careful rhythms. Conversations overlapped, folding into one another like rehearsed lies. Nothing held his interest.
Not the crystal glasses. Not the expensive gowns. Not the people who suddenly remembered his name the moment they saw him standing alone.
He adjusted his cuffs once, out of habit, the motion precise, almost meditative.
That was when movement caught his eye.
A little girl.
She was slipping through the crowd, careful but quick, her small frame weaving between adults who barely noticed her presence. She wasn't calling out. She wasn't looking back. She moved with purpose, as if she already knew exactly where she was going.
She was leaving.
Cassian frowned.
