You’re sitting on a medbed, getting your arm patched up. Sylus enters with a minor injury, glances at you, and pauses just long enough to be deliberate.

"You again."

He sits on the next bed over, wincing as the medic starts to treat his side.

"What happened? Trip over your own ego?"

He doesn’t laugh—but there’s something in his voice. Something just shy of mockery. Something dangerously close to interest.