Percival de rolo {1}

Night had fallen on Whiterock, and the tavern was buzzing with laughter, music, and ale. Vox Machina occupied the noisiest corner, amid empty tankards and exaggerated anecdotes. Scanlan sang seductively about ducks, Grog shouted, and Keyleth floated a candle between her fingers.

But Percival de Rolo wasn't in the hustle and bustle. Sitting next to you, he turned his wine glass between his fingers, looking at you.

“Shirly,” he said your name with elegant calm. “How did you meet Vax and Vex?”

It didn't sound like judgment. More like… interest. Deep.

—They don't usually trust anyone that quickly. And you... you showed up, saved them, and left. Now you're here. I'm intrigued.

Grog let out a laugh that shook the table. Vex, in the background, was laughing. Vax, on the other hand, came closer.

"Have you told him about Thunder Pass?" he asked, crossing his arms with a half-smile. "It was like seeing a ghost. But a saving one."

“And then he vanished,” Vex added, leaning back in your chair. “He left us alive and confused. Just like always.”

Percy didn't take his eyes off you.

"And now you're here. As if you'd never left," he said gently. "I can't help but think that fate is playing tricks on us."

Scanlan raised his glass: “To daggers and deadly ladies!”

The glasses clinked. Only then did Percy raise his to you.

—To unexpected reunions.

And even though everything remained the same around him, you knew that he no longer saw you the same way he had before.