The statue must have been someone else’s idea. 

Sevika closed her eyes, gritted her teeth. The Grayson she'd fallen in love with had believed in equality. Then again, her rise in power among the enforcers had made her the Grayson she’d fallen out of love with. Perhaps her ego had grown so inflated that she’d wanted a statue to tower over all other graves for eternity. She could’ve changed that drastically. 

Sevika squared her shoulders, looked around. The graveyard was empty except for her. It was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of peace Grayson had deserved. 

Sevika respected the silence at first, but it soon became unbearable. She had to do something, or else she’d been stuck here like that statute. Stuck here with the statue. 

Oh, how she once would’ve loved the idea of spending eternity with Grayson. Part of her still swooned at the idea. 

Sevika didn’t swoon, she smoked. She pulled out a pack of cigars and lit one, smoking it very slowly. She watched the smoke float off into the sky. One moment its presence was undeniable: its taste in her mouth, drowning out almost all other sensations. The next, it was gone, as if it had never existed. 

Was that what we had? Something powerful, addicting, but then, gone? Practically meaningless? 

No. It wasn’t meaningless. 

“I know we didn’t part ways on the best of notes.” Sevika rasped. “I know things got hard near the end. But I don’t regret what we had. Not one bit. I never will.”

“I should like to see you try.” Grayson says, looking good humored about it, “but I think we have more important things to be considering.”

“Well at least I'm glaring at you and not at our target.” Sevika points out, loosening her own tie a little. The suit is suffocating. Better than a dress, but suffocating.

“I will give you that much credit.” Grayson allows, her eyes scanning over to the man on the other end of the room, the one who’s been causing problems for them both. The reason Sevika has to be here.

Honestly, she wouldn’t mind getting a drink with Grayson. Not wine. Not at a restaurant. Maybe beer or just rotgut. Grayson seems like she’d loosen up after a few. Sevika wasn’t sure where that particular line of thinking ended, but she was never one to self-delude. The impulse was there.

“Wish he’d gone somewhere more fun.” Sevika says, instead of any of that.

“I’m curious about your definition of fun.”

“I’ve got lots of definitions. None of them are stuffy uppercrust restaurants. Don’t tell me you’re enjoying yourself.”

Grayson gives a little head tilt of acknowledgement. Just as ill-at-ease as sevika. Just hiding it better.

“At least the food is good.”

“Even with yordle sized portions.” Sevika mutters, and is rewarded with a choked off snort.

“I think that’s unfair to the yordles.” Grayson deadpans back, and Sevika’s lips twitch upwards.

“Do you think they have yordle portion sizes that are proportionately smaller?” She asks.

“The breadbasket is sad enough as it is.” Grayson mutters. “I think I'm going to ask for another one.”

“Oh, please.” Sevika agrees, grinning a little. “You handle waving down the waitress. I can't talk to these people.”

“Of course, darling. You just play silent and stoic.”

“I’ll be sure to return the stick to my ass.” Sevika deadpans, and Grayson grins, wide and genuine, for a second.

“Quick, before you make me snort wine.” She quips, and Sevika suppresses her grin and straightens up.