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“I’ll take you there,” Helianth cut in. “Archer’s delicious. So are his tiganos.”

“Excuse me?” Aviel turned, wooden spoon in hand. “You are currently eating mine.”

Helianth took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I wasn’t talking about that. Yours are good too, and you know it.”

Aviel froze mid-stir. “Just good?”

“But Archer’s are⁠—”

“Do not finish that line, just because you want to fuck him.”

Cyprian looked up. “Aviel!”

Helianth pressed a hand to his chest. “I have no idea what you’re implying.”

“Liar,” Aviel muttered.

Ryneth glanced between them. “You all argue about this often?”

Helianth smirked. “Only when Aviel forgets his place.”

“My place?” Aviel tilted his head. “Careful, now.”

Cyprian pushed a small napkin across the counter toward Ryneth. “Here.” He scribbled something quickly. “That’s my number. If you ever want to come by Archer’s, text me. We’ll make a morning of it.”

Ryneth hesitated before taking it. “Well, I suppose I…I don’t… really know anyone.”

Cyprian’s expression gentled. “That’s the point.”

Daven watched the exchange without interrupting. His thumb brushed once over the inside of Ryneth’s wrist before he released him.

Aviel pointed his spoon toward Ryneth. “And don’t listen to them. My kitchen is superior.”

“That’s debatable,” Moargan said.

“It’s not.”

Helianth took another bite. “It is.”

Ryneth’s lips twitched despite himself.

Daven caught it.

Beautiful.

“All right,” Daven said finally, draining his coffee. “As entertaining as this domestic war is, we have class.”

Yure didn’t look up. “If I find out anything new, I’ll call.”

Helianth stepped aside to let them pass. “And keep your comms open. Kylix is out there non-stop.”

Daven reached for Ryneth’s hand again without asking.

Cyprian lifted a hand. “Breakfast at Archer’s.”

Ryneth nodded once. “Maybe.”

“Definitely,” Helianth corrected.