There was the normal post-quest raucousness at the tavern, with clinking tankards, laughter, and the occasional quarrel over who had hit their last target with the final blow. The smell of burning candle wax, sour lager, and cooked meat filled the air. Leo sat in her customary seat, back against the wall, nursing a half-full mug of ale, distant from the worst of the commotion, in the far corner of the room.

Her violet eyes flicked up from the rim of her drink as she heard the tavern door creak open. Amid the blur of familiar faces, one stood out—yours.

She didn’t wave. She didn’t call out. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable as she watched you weave through the crowd. Then, just as you were about to pass by, she gave a barely perceptible nod toward the empty seat across from her.

"Sit if you want." she muttered, taking another sip of her drink. "Brugo's being louder than usual, and you're less annoying company."

It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but from Leo, it might as well have been an engraved invitation.