Alethea, genuinely disappointed and visibly frustrated at Indra's team performance, huffed and turned away from Sathvic.
"I'm going to have an ice cream," she said curtly and stomped off.
Meanwhile, Eirene stood at a kiosk, buying multiple cans of what looked like orange juice. She muttered under her breath, "Well, Eucliea wasn't that bad to handle. Without her, I got to do this all myself. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk all that she brought me."
Cut to Eucliea, now sitting beside Phylax, tossing a glance toward the vending stalls.
"I wonder if the orange juice I gave her was enough," she mused aloud.
Phylax, arms crossed and posture relaxed, replied, "God knows. It is her favorite, after all."
Eucliea squinted at him. "How do you know that?"
"Come on," Phylax said, flashing a small smile. "I've been the head of her security team for years."
"Huh," she muttered, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "You must find her attractive—that's why you're keeping track of these tiny details."
Phylax chuckled. Without a word, he reached out and gave her cheek a playful tug—gentle, but firm enough to make a point.
"Yeah, yeah," he teased. "I'm giving 100% of my attention just so you can throw that card at me, right?"
Meanwhile,
Alethea, munching on her ice cream with an expression that would've made a volcano proud, grumbled, "That stupid Sathvic couldn't even come console me... That duuuumbo! Aghhh!"
If she were a volcano, this would definitely qualify as an eruption.
She took another bite and sighed. "Anyways... I wonder what Zorion's doing. I mean, the guy knows basically nothing about the sport. God knows if his VIP partner even told him it's halftime."
She paused, staring into space for a moment. "Let's go check on him."
This much care for a guy whose last interaction with her involved getting kicked? Rare.
She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking hard. "Box number... Box number... 7/06!" she finally exclaimed triumphantly.
She reached the box in under five minutes—a feat that would've given her lifetime bragging rights had she known Zorion took nearly an hour to find it earlier.
Inside, Zorion sat daydreaming, gazing at the field with a soft smile. He barely reacted to the sudden slam of the door.
"You're back..." he said with a hopeful tone—only to follow it up flatly, "Oh. It's you."
Alethea narrowed her eyes, arms folded. "Who's you? And why did your excitement fall faster than Indra's chances of winning today?"
Zorion waved both hands in defense. "No, no! You're taking it wrong!"
Still, her earlier question lingered in his mind. Who is 'back'? He suddenly realized... he'd never even asked Eirene's name. Nor had he given his own.
Alethea smirked. "So... is your seat partner actually a girl? You lucky guy. Is she hot?"
Zorion blinked. "How do you know it's a girl?"
She pointed casually toward the other seat. "Your average guy wouldn't leave a hairband on top of their seat."
Before she could grill him further, the door opened again.
"Well, well," Eirene said as she stepped in, arms casually crossed. "You're not as much of a chick anti-magnet as I presumed. Who's she? Your girlfriend?"
Alethea burst out laughing. "Nah, nah. His girlfriend slot is empty. Name's Alethea. And you, pretty lady?"
"Eirene," she responded crisply, as usual.
Zorion, internally: Oh yeah... that's the name the girl who guided me here kept repeating.
"You guys from the same town?" Eirene asked, taking her seat.
"Nah," Alethea answered, finishing her ice cream. "We became friends on the way here. On the bus."
Eirene tilted her head slightly. "Judging by your body language, you felt like childhood friends."
Alethea laughed. "I know, right? We three talked the entire trip."
"Three?"
That was when Alethea remembered—someone still hadn't shown up.
She sighed dramatically. "Yeah. We have a pain-in-the-butt member in our trio too."
Alethea casually unzipped her sling bag and pulled out a small chocolate milkshake can, cracking it open with a soft psssht before taking a satisfied sip.
Zorion watched silently as the two girls talked and drank side by side, both equipped with bags clearly stocked like mini-fridges. Not once did they turn toward him. Not once did they offer a can.
It was like observing two wild, graceful creatures in their natural habitat—hydrated, energetic, completely indifferent to the thirsty soul sitting beside them.
Still, he didn't complain. In fact, he didn't even want a drink.
All he wanted... was for Alethea to say his name just once. Just once before halftime ended, so he wouldn't have to awkwardly introduce himself later like a late-entry NPC.
And then, as if fate had mercy—and maybe, just maybe, Alethea had a single thread of that elusive feminine kindness left in her—she turned to him.
"Would you like a can too, Zorion?"
Zorion almost gasped. The way she said his name. The timing. The consideration.
He was so proud of her, he nearly teared up.
Alethea blinked. "Ayo, what happened? Were you such an outcast your whole life that one drink offer is enough to make you cry?"
Eirene, mid-sip, burst into laughter—with half the juice still in her mouth. The result? A dramatic spray that would've made Triple H proud in his WWE entrance prime.
---
AUTHOR'S NOTE
CHARACTER DESIGNS: PHYLAX AND ZAHIR
Phylax – Age: 24
Eirene's loyal and composed security head. Observant, dry-humored, and physically strong (though not as buff as Zahir), he keeps things under control… unless Eucliea's around.
Zahir – Age: 24
Zaherra's national sports team captain and Eirene's childhood friend. Tall, built, and intense, he's a walking wall of talent and pride—with a soft spot that occasionally peeks through.