The Tavern had started making noise again.

Not beautifully. Not politely. Not “consciously.” Normally.

At first it was small things. Two people speaking at the same time and neither stepping back. A laugh slightly louder than the new seriousness allowed. A disagreement that was not immediately dressed in the usual bandages, “space,” “intention,” “resistance,” “processing,” “void,” as if real life were a skin condition requiring soft hands.

Something had changed after Ares.