The condo felt different at night.
Softer. Quieter. The lights were dimmed, casting warm pools of yellow against the walls, while the ocean outside pressed close to the glass as a dark, steady presence. The coffee table was cluttered with cards, beer bottles, and a half eaten bag of chips, the casual wreckage of people trying not to think too hard.
Scarlet sat on the floor with Henry, Quinn, and Soren in a loose circle. They were in the middle of a low stakes card game. Nothing serious. Nothing that mattered.
Quinn squinted down at his hand, lips pursed in exaggerated concentration. “Okay,” he said, “statistically speaking, one of you is lying.”
“That’s not how statistics work,” Soren replied flatly.
“It absolutely is if you don’t understand math,” Quinn shot back.
Scarlet laughed. N
