Page 126 of Sacrifice
"Ramen, energy drinks, and whatever the cafeteria claims is meatloaf."
"Gross."
"So gross."
Soren regales us with college stories.
Mom updates us on neighborhood gossip.
Dad and Emil discuss some upcoming charity ride the club's organizing.
It's almost possible to forget the cameras hidden in the corners, the weapons within easy reach, the constant low-level vigilance we all maintain.
Then Emil's phone buzzes.
He checks it, and I see his jaw tighten slightly.
"Everything okay?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah. Just Runes updating patrol schedules." He puts the phone away, but I know that look.
Something's going on. Not immediate danger, but... something.
"Hey, remember when Saga couldn't even hold a gun without shaking?" Soren says suddenly, either not noticing or deliberately changing the subject. "Now she's Annie Oakley."
"I wasn't that bad," I protest.
"You literally dropped it the first time," Elfe reminds me. "Emil had to catch it."
"That was one time!"
"Safety was on anyway," Emil says. "And look at her now. Best shot in the family."
"Second best," Dad corrects. "I've still got a few years on you, kiddo."
"Challenge accepted. Next range day, you're on."
"Deal."
Mom shakes her head. "My family, the gunslingers. What happened to nice, normal hobbies?"
"Normal's overrated," Soren says. "Besides, have you seen Elfe's latest paintings? Talk about not normal."
"They're abstract expressionism," Elfe defends. "Very normal in the art world."
"The one with the skulls and flowers is not normal."
"It's a meditation on mortality and beauty!"
"It's creepy is what it is."
They bicker good-naturedly while we eat.
The dogs eventually give up hope of scraps and sprawl out, creating a furry obstacle course under the table.
"So," Mom says during a quiet moment, "any special plans coming up? Trips, events...?"
She's fishing and not subtly. Emil and I exchange glances.
