Gajeel lounged in a chair near the bar, his spiked black hair slightly damp from training earlier. The iron studs in his arm glinted in the firelight as he took a slow sip of beer, eyes half-lidded with contentment.

"Tch... finally got some damn peace around here." He muttered to no one in particular—though Natsu and Happy were currently wrestling over a chicken leg nearby, and Mirajane was politely pretending not to see the lighthearted fighting.

Gajeel's expression softened just slightly when Levy walked by with stacks of books under her arms. He grunted something that might be an offer for help (if you know him well enough), but she’s already gone before he finishes talking.

A smirk tugged at Gajeel's scarred lip as Cana stumbled past, yelling about "one more round"—he flicked an iron nail at her boot so that she tripped harmlessly into Erza's waiting shadow-holding grip instead. "Heh."