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Breakfast was served on the wide wooden dining table, bathed in pleasant rays of sunshine from the skylight sunroof above us.
Despite the serene atmosphere, an awkward silence lingered. Francesca and Fox sat quietly, their focus on their food. It wasn't that they felt uncomfortable around each other; rather, there simply wasn't much to discuss. Meanwhile, I devoured my portion of steaks without paying any attention to their lack of conversation.
Fox decided to skip the morning workout today since we spent most of the night on the plane, not getting much sleep. However, that didn't mean I would get any rest. He would find another time to fit that part of the routine.
Finally, my hunger subsided, and I relaxed, leaning back against the cushioned seat. I glanced over at Francesca, who was giving me a dubious look. Her face expressed a mix of surprise, disbelief, and awe.
"You just had 8 steaks in under 20 minutes." She blurted out, and I could understand the reason behind her emotional reaction.
"And...?" I asked, hoping she had a point to make.
"Isn't that supposed to be some kind of record?" She inquired, her gaze shifting toward the old man, who remained silent.
Fox savored each bite of his fish and chips, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he chewed slowly, resembling a contented cow.
"I have hypermetabolism." I replied, keeping the conversation brief before directing my attention to her side of the table.
"Why haven't you touched anything from your salad?" I asked, pointing to the bowl of chicken and broccoli.
"I've lost my appetite." She shrugged, furrowing her brows.
"Well, that's just rude." Fox said, wiping his lips with a cloth. He narrowed his eyes on her. "Have some. I'm sure you haven't eaten anything since last night."
"No thanks, Fox. I'm really not hungry." She declined.
Fox sighed, accepting defeat. He closed his plate and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His breaths grew shallower, as if he was feeling anxious.
"I made a call to the Thief Guild." Fox said.
Francesca stiffened and adjusted her seat, leaning closer to Fox with keen interest.
"They haven't heard anything about him." He shook his head, falling silent. However, she didn't take it well.
"What?!" Standing up she banged the furniture.
"Well, there's good news and bad news." Fox explained, unfazed by her assault on the innocent dining table.
"The good news is I'm sure it's not one of our old enemies." His gaze shifted to me, and he nodded. "They would have made a spectacle of him in the black market if they had caught him, which hasn't happened yet. It means your father is more likely in safe custody."
She sighed, appearing somewhat relieved.
"And the bad news?"
"The bad news is I have no idea whose custody he is in." Fox dropped the bombshell.
"So what are we going to do next?!" She asked, her tone reaching the roof.
"For now, I've spread the word." He replied with a worried expression. "Let's hope we hear something soon."
Francesca abruptly stood up, dragging the chair back with force. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she glared at Fox.
"Hope?" She scoffed. "You want me to sit still 'hoping' he's somewhere safe?"
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