"Good for I should have to kill you if you hurt her."Tristan grinned as he reached for his glass."Ah, but remember when the nights were ours to command?"Tristan mused aloud, sipping the whiskey as it warmed his throat, a pleasant distraction from the whispers of his heart that yearned, foolishly, for something more enduring than fleeting pleasure."Gaming hells trembled at our approach, and maidens swooned at the mere mention of our names.I daresay my nights are not as fun now that you have become domesticated."
"Those days are etched in memory," Charles said, his blue eyes alight with the reflection of their shared past."But I have found a different sort of adventure now, one I never expected to cherish as I do.And I must confess it is exceedingly more satisfactory."
Tristan raised an eyebrow, the gesture speaking volumes of his skepticism without the need for words.To surrender to love seemed akin to placing one's neck willingly upon the block—yet there sat Charles, blissful and unscathed by the bonds of marriage.
“Perhaps you will someday know the same happiness.”Charles eyed Tristan with a knowing look."But you, my friend, seem more inclined to chase shadows than to bask in the light of day."
Tristan's laughter rang clear, a melodious sound that carried no echo of the sorrow he kept cloistered away."Shadows can be quite diverting, you know.They change shape, they dance, they offer the thrill of the chase without the messiness of capture."
"Yet even shadows flee from the sun," Charles pointed out softly, his words laced with concern.
"Then let us drink to the moon," Tristan declared, raising his glass in a toast to the sanctuary of night."For under its silver sheen, we can revel in the illusion of constancy."
They drank, the silence between them filled with the clinking of crystal and the understanding that some wounds were too deep even for time's tender ministrations to heal.As the whiskey left a trail of fire, Tristan savored the burn, a welcome sensation that reminded him he was still very much alive—even if part of him remained lost in the echoes of a former life.
Tristan set his glass upon the gleaming mahogany table, the golden liquid casting a warm glow in the firelight of White's private chambers.The whiskey's smoky aroma still lingered, yet it was the tantalizing promise of the night ahead that now occupied his thoughts.
"Another?"Charles queried, indicating the decanter with a lifted brow.
"Ah, temptation," Tristan mused aloud, allowing himself a roguish grin as he declined with a gracious wave of his hand."But I must confess, my dear friend, my appetite is whetted for a different sort of indulgence."
"Indeed?"Charles's eyes twinkled with intrigue."The cards call to you again?Or perhaps a pair of azure eyes spotted across a crowded salon?"
"Both, if fortune favors me," Tristan replied with a laugh, the sound rich with anticipation.
"Then here is to your success," Charles toasted, lifting his glass once more, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"To the night," Tristan echoed, his voice imbued with the determination of a vow.A pledge to himself that he would plunge into the evenings whirl with vigor, that he would taste the sweet nectar of fleeting connections without the risk of entanglement and banish the past from his mind.
As he rose from his seat, smoothing the fabric of his tailored coat, Tristan felt the familiar stirrings of excitement.
With a nod to his friend, he stepped toward the promise of the evening, the whisper of silk dresses and stolen glances already beckoning.The night was upon him, and Tristan was ready to embrace every scandalous delight it had to offer.
