The air inside the pub was thick with the scent of aged wood, spice-laced drinks, and the lingering warmth of a crowd. It was tucked away in the backstreets—a place the Clan stumbled upon after the mission by accident.
It wasn't exactly grand, but it had the essentials: dim lighting, strong drinks, and enough background noise to make them feel like they weren't fugitives for once.
Myst sat at the far end of a worn wooden table, quietly eating while the others exchanged stories from their latest run. It was one of those rare moments of calm.
Or so she thought.
A hand smoothly plucked a piece of food from her plate. She paused, fork halfway to her lips, before flicking her gaze to Nyx.
He leaned back in his chair, popped the stolen bite into his mouth, chewing leisurely like it was his own. His expression was as smug as ever.
She narrowed her eyes. "You're joking."
Nyx shrugged, elbow resting lazily on the table. "Yours looked better."
Myst huffed and turned back to her plate, deciding to let it slide. But just as she was about to take another bite—another piece vanished.
This time, she caught his wrist mid-air.
"Seriously?" she muttered, grip firm.
Nyx's lips twitched into something dangerously amused. "What? You don't like sharing?"
"Not with you."
"Now that's just hurtful," he mused, taking offense. Seconds after, "But you look cute when you're mad."
Across the table, Shade and Blaze had noticed. Shade raised a brow, while Blaze smirked behind his cup.
Myst rolled her eyes and released his wrist, stabbing a piece with unnecessary force before eating it, making a point to chew slowly, as if taunting him. He wouldn't try again, she'd made her point.
Or so she thought. Again.
Because the next thing she knew, Nyx had picked up another piece, not eating it this time, but holding it up between them.
"Fine," he said, voice low, teasing. His eyes gleamed with a challenge. "Take it back, then."
Myst frowned. "What?"
Nyx just smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Go on." He lifted the piece just a little closer to her lips, an eyebrow raised in challenge.
Her mind screamed at her not to react, not to play into whatever game this was. But Nyx was watching her too intently, too amused. It was just a trap.
But for some reason, she didn't look away. The flickering golden light of the pub cast shadows along his jaw, highlighting that ever-present smugness in his features.
Instead of snatching it from his fingers, Myst leaned in. Just enough. Just barely. And took it from him—her lips brushing against his fingertips in the process.
Nyx went still.
For a second, she caught the slight shift in his breath. The brief flicker of something behind his gaze.
She leaned back, chewing as if nothing had happened. "Thanks."
Nyx exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Damn," he murmured, amused. "That was cold, even for you."
She hid a smirk behind her drink.
Across them, Shade raised an eyebrow. "If you two are done flirting, some of us are still eating."
Blaze chuckled, half-smirking over his already empty glass. "Yeah. Get a room."
Myst groaned, feeling heat creep up her neck, while Nyx just leaned back in his chair, looking way too pleased with himself.
"Hey," he mused, stealing one last bite from her plate. "She started it."
Myst kicked him under the table. Nyx just laughed.
A fresh round of drinks arrived at the table, courtesy of Cipher, who dropped them off before disappearing to a different corner of the pub.
Myst absently traced her glass, content to just sit in the moment until Nyx nudged her with his knee under the table.
She sighed. "What now?"
Nyx swirled his drink, smirking over the rim. "Just wondering… is this the first time you've actually relaxed in weeks?"
Myst shot him a side glance. "I relax."
Nyx snorted. "Sure, you do. Just like Shade's great at socializing and Cipher never hacks security systems he shouldn't."
"Hey," Cipher called from a few seats away. "I fucking heard that!"
Myst ignored him, shaking her head. "I can relax just fine, Nyx."
"Mm-hmm." He leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Then prove it."
She raised an eyebrow. "How exactly?"
Nyx tilted his head toward the pub's small, makeshift dance floor. A handful of locals swayed to the steady pulse of music, the dim glow of neon lights painting shadows along the wooden floors.
Myst scoffed, already predicting his suggestion. "No."
"Aw, come on. Just one dance?" He was definitely enjoying this. "Or are you scared?"
"I just don't want to," she muttered, taking another sip of her drink.
Nyx showed disappointment, but there was that knowing look in his eyes again. He didn't need words to tease her, his face said it all.
Then, as if just to be an ass, he stood, stretching lazily before giving her a smirk. "Guess I'll have to find someone else to dance with, then."
He didn't get two steps before Myst caught his wrist. Nyx paused. Looked down. Then up.
"Sit," Myst said simply, her grip firm.
His smirk widened. "Jealous?"
"I'm sparing some poor woman from making a bad decision."
Nyx laughed, but he let her pull him back into his seat. "You wound me, Myst," he murmured, leaning closer.
"Good."
There was a beat of silence between them. Just the hum of the music, the quiet clinking of glasses, and the low murmur of conversations around the pub.
Then Nyx, voice quieter this time, asked, "You ever danced before?"
Myst hesitated, not expecting the question. She fiddled with her glass, then admitted, "Once."
Nyx tilted his head. "With whom?"
Myst didn't answer right away. The memory was a distant thing, faded around the edges. Something from before. Nyx didn't push. For once, he just sat back, watching her.
And then, after a moment, he reached out. Just a light tap of his fingers against hers on the table. Myst glanced at him, questioning.
Nyx just smiled lazily. "For the record," he said, "I think you'd be a terrible dancer."