The narrow cobblestone streets of Treviso were quiet, bathed in moonlight. Lanterns flickered, casting warm light on the pastel façades of old buildings, while the distant hum of nocturnal life mingled with the soft sound of water lapping against the canal.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight,” Rook observed, glancing at Lucanis. “Everything alright?”

He chuckled, a nervous sound. “Not every moment needs a clever quip, you know.” His gaze flicked briefly to Rook before darting to the rippling reflection in the canal. “Sometimes I just like the quiet.”

Spite appeared ahead, perched on the canal’s edge with a smug grin. “He means he likes the quiet with you but is too much of a coward to say it.”

Lucanis stiffened, shooting him a sharp glare, though he didn’t say a word. Rook raised an eyebrow. “What’s Spite saying now? You’ve got that look again.”

“He’s being... himself,” Lucanis muttered, tugging at his collar.

Spite snickered, mocking Lucanis’s voice. “Rook, you’re the only one I want to walk with under the moonlight...” He rolled his glowing eyes. “You’re painful to watch.”

Lucanis sighed. “I hate you,” he muttered.

“You what?” Rook asked, confused.

He froze. “No, not you. I mean—Spite. I hate Spite.” He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gods, this is ridiculous.”

Rook stopped, a hint of amusement in their eyes. “You’re acting like a teenager caught sneaking out after curfew.”

Lucanis hesitated, his jaw working as though trying to form words that just wouldn’t come. Spite, meanwhile, dissolved into silent laughter, his translucent form shimmering like smoke. “Oh, this is priceless. Just say it, lover boy.”