Page 28 of Scoring the Orc

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes flicking to the abundant spread before us. Slowly, she reaches for the serving spoon, her movements tentative. At first, we eat in uncertain silence, the clinking of utensils the only sound between us. I find myself watching her, the way she delicately picks at her food, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks.

I can’t help it. The silence is too heavy, too charged. “Careful with that,” I say, a teasing lilt in my voice. “I hear humans have rather weak stomachs.”

To my surprise, Emilia shoots back a witty retort without missing a beat. “Weak stomachs, perhaps, but strong wills. Can’t say the same for everyone at this table.”

I bark out a laugh, genuinely appreciating her boldness. It's rare for anyone to speak to me like that, and it’s refreshing. We fall into easy banter, trading good-natured barbs back and forth. I throw a few more jabs her way, and she parries them with a sharp tongue and quick wit that matches my own.

“So, you think you’re tough, huh?” I say, leaning back in my chair, a smirk playing on my lips.

“Tougher than you, clearly,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’ve got spirit, Emilia. I’ll give you that.”

As we continue our verbal sparring, I find myself smiling, a rare occurrence these days. Emilia's vibrant spirit and sharp tongue engage me in a way no one else does. She matches my vigor, meeting my challenges head-on without flinching. It’s exhilarating.

The meal stretches longer than usual, neither of us in a hurry to leave. I watch the way she talks, the way her eyes light up when she’s particularly pleased with a retort. There’s a fire in her, a passion that draws me in despite myself.

“So, tell me,” I say, leaning forward, my elbows resting on the table. “What do you really think of this place?”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly considering her words carefully. “It’s... different,” she says finally. “Not what I’m used to, but it has its charms.”

I nod, appreciating her honesty. “And me?” I ask, my tone more serious now. “What do you think of me?”

She pauses, her fork hovering mid-air. “You want the truth?”

“Always.”

“You’re infuriating,” she says, her voice steady. “But... you’re also fascinating. You challenge me in ways I didn’t expect.”

Her words hit me harder than I anticipated. I lean back, studying her. “You challenge me too, Emilia. More than you know.”

She looks down, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. For a moment, the playful banter fades, replaced by a charged silence. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the same one that gnaws at me.

I find myself smiling again, a rare occurrence. Emilia’s vibrant spirit and sharp tongue engage me. She matches my vigor in a way no one else does. Their laughter draws more curious looks. Ignoring the onlookers, I refill Emilia’s glass, charmed by her smile.

It hits me again how much I want her. I’ve never entertained anyone’s company, and yet, I want hers. I can’t let her see too much of my thoughts, though. I still need to maintain control.

“Eat up,” I say gruffly, pushing a platter toward her. “You’ll need your strength.”

She gives me a curious look but doesn’t argue. As we continue to eat, I notice more about her. The way she carefully selects her food, the way she chews thoughtfully, lost in her own world. It’s these little things that make her... different.

“Do you miss your home?” I ask, surprising myself with the question.

She looks up, her eyes meeting mine. “Sometimes,” she admits. “But I’m learning to adapt.”

I nod, understanding more than I let on. “Good. Adaptation is a sign of strength.”

We fall back into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier easing. It’s strange, but I find myself enjoying her company more than I expected. She’s not just a distraction; she’s a challenge, a puzzle I can’t quite solve.

As the meal winds down, I lean back in my chair, watching her. “You know, Emilia, you’re not like the others.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes me so special?”

I smirk, leaning forward. “You’ve got fire. Spirit. Most would have broken by now, but you... you thrive.”

She looks away, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe I’m just stubborn.”

“Maybe,” I agree, chuckling. “But it’s more than that. You’ve got a strength most don’t. It’s... admirable.”

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