Blood Moon Diner.

The music starts before anyone arrives. Low, steady, the kind that fills space without asking for attention. Elara moves around the room with quiet purpose, adjusting things that don’t really need adjusting. Plates are already set. Drinks lined up. The lights are warm, soft enough to make everything feel easy. For a moment, she stands still in the middle of it all. It looks right. It feels right. Still, something in her chest doesn’t settle. A knock breaks the silence. She exhales, smooths her hands over her shirt, and opens the door. Amia Leo walks in like she owns the night. “You started without me?” she says, already slipping off her shoes, already smiling like trouble. “You’re early,” Elara replies. “I’m never early. I’m exactly when the party needs me.” She drops her bag on the nearest chair and spins once, taking everything in. “Okay… this is nice. Like actually nice. Are we being classy tonight?” “Just for a few hours,” Elara says. Amia grins. “We’ll fix that.” Another knock. Then another. The room begins to fill. Kunle is loud before he even steps inside, phone already in his hand. “If this night is boring, I’m exposing all of you.” “It just started,” Elara says. “Exactly. High expectations.” Simy Ebay follows close behind him, pausing just inside the doorway to adjust her angle, her hair, the lighting. “Wait, nobody move.” She lifts her phone. “This is the pre-party glow. I need this.” Amia leans into frame instantly. “Make sure you get my good side.” “You only have one side,” Kunle mutters. “I have many. You just can’t afford them.” Laughter spreads easily. Natural. Familiar. More people drift in. Marcus and Lila arrive together, already mid-argument that sounds like flirting if you don’t listen too closely. Dami comes in last out of them, scanning the room like he’s checking for hazards instead of friends. “You really did all this,” he says to Elara. “It’s just dinner.” “It’s not just dinner.” She shrugs, but there’s a small smile there. Jonah slips in without announcement. No greeting, no noise. He takes a seat near the corner, where the light doesn’t quite reach the same way. He nods once when Elara notices him. That’s enough. Then there’s one more knock. Quieter this time. Elara hesitates before opening the door. Michel Packer stands there, hands in his pockets, eyes calm but unreadable. Like he’s not surprised to be here, but not entirely part of it either. “You made it,” she says. “Yeah.” He doesn’t step in immediately. His gaze shifts past her, into the room, taking everything in. The people. The movement. The sound. Something about it holds him there for a second too long. Then he walks in. The door closes. And just like that, the night feels full. Music rises a little louder. Conversations overlap. Someone turns the lights down just a touch. The air warms with bodies, voices, small moments stacking on each other. Amia pulls Elara toward the center. “Okay, rule number one. Nobody sits and acts boring.” “I’m not boring.” “We’ll see.” Kunle is already recording again. “Say something inspirational for future me when I’m broke.” “You’ll still be broke,” Amia says. “Wow. No faith.” Simy laughs, adjusting her phone. “This is perfect. I’m telling you, this is the kind of night people wish they were invited to.” “It just started,” Dami says. “That’s the point.” At the table, plates begin to fill. Someone spills a drink and blames someone else. Marcus steals food from Lila’s plate and pretends innocence. She threatens him with a fork, smiling in a way that almost hides the edge underneath. Fola leans back in his chair, watching it all unfold. “You ever notice how moments like this feel permanent while they’re happening?” “No,” Amia says. “Because I’m too busy enjoying them.” “That’s what I mean.” Jonah lets out a quiet breath that might be a laugh. Or something else. Elara moves through it all, checking in, adjusting, making sure everyone has what they need. But every now and then, her eyes drift. To the table. To the folded piece of paper resting near the center. She doesn’t touch it. Not yet. Across the room, Michel notices. He hasn’t said much. Just watched. Listened. Like he’s waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet. Their eyes meet for a second. “Good crowd,” he says. “It is.” “You picked them?” “Mostly.” He nods slowly. “That matters.” Before she can ask what he means, Amia claps her hands loudly. “Alright,” she says, stepping into the middle of the room. “We’ve eaten. We’ve talked. We’ve pretended to be decent people.” A few laughs. “Now we do something fun.” Dami sighs. “Here we go.” “No complaining,” Amia says. “Elara, you had something, right? That thing you mentioned.” Elara freezes for half a second. Too small for anyone to call out. Then she walks to the table. Her fingers hover over the folded paper before picking it up. “It’s just a game,” she says. Simple. Casual. Normal. But something in the room shifts anyway. Not enough to stop anything. Just enough to be felt. Michel leans back slightly, eyes fixed on the paper now. “Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “A game.”