Then a turn.
He spotted the coat.
Half-shadowed now, against the base of a hollowed-out newsstand. Varik stood near it, one hand resting on the handle of the longer sword strapped to his back, but not drawing it. His head tilted slightly as Lucen approached.
Lucen slowed.
Stopped three paces away.
Didn't speak.
Didn't posture.
Just… waited.
Varik turned slightly. Not enough to face him. Just enough to acknowledge.
Then said, "You came anyway."
Lucen shrugged one shoulder. "Could've kept walking."
"But you didn't."
"No."
The wind picked up. Whispered through broken glass and swinging signs. Bits of ash floated in the air like snow that didn't know how to melt.
Lucen looked at the older man.
"Why'd you look at me first?" he asked.
Varik was silent for a moment.
Then said, "Because I've seen a storm building before. I know what the sky looks like just before it breaks open."
Lucen raised an eyebrow. "So I'm a weather pattern now?"
