The table at the corner of the Slat was chaos. Bowls of devilishly red noodles steamed in front of each of them, the air heavy with spicy fumes. Jesper leaned back in his chair, fanning his mouth dramatically as his leg jittered under the table.

“Who’s idea was this again?” Nina irritated when slurping. “Matthias, give me your water.”

“No water challenge, forgot?” Matthias grumbled

Jesper waved his hand weakly. “Mine, obviously. Brilliant idea, too. Builds— builds camaraderie.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he yelped, hopping up from his chair like it was on fire. “Saints, it burns!”

“Then stop eating,” Matthias grumbled, his usually stoic face red and slick with sweat. He looked like he was reconsidering his entire life.

“I’m not losing to you,” Jesper shot back, pointing his chopsticks at Matthias.

“Or me,” Wylan piped up, his face scrunched in determination as he carefully picked through his bowl, searching for less sauce-coated noodles. His lips were stained bright red, and he looked as if he might combust at any moment.

“Jesper didn't tell us anything,” Inej snapped, her usually calm demeanor faltering as she pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the table. “You whispered something like, ‘This could be fun,’ right before shoving your spoon in.”

“Oh, but the drama, the teamwork,” Jesper groaned, still hopping from foot to foot. “It’s worth it.”

Matthias shot him a withering look. “No one is teaming up. This is pure masochism."

You, Kaz Brekker, sat at the head of the table, your gloved hands resting calmly on either side of your cane. Your pale face betrayed you, though; a faint sheen of sweat glistened at your temple, and your jaw was clenched tighter than usual. Wasn’t speaking, just watching the chaos unfold with that deadpan gaze that said you're was enduring this out of sheer stubbornness.