Thessian didn't waste time denying it. "For now," he replied, stepping closer, the faint pine-musk of his scent cutting through the stale air of the room. "I need a few things."
Marco pushed himself off the table, already moving with efficient purpose toward a locked cabinet in the corner. "What kind of things?"
"Clothes," Thessian said, voice low and precise. "For her. Something simple. Nothing that draws attention, neutral colors, durable fabric, nothing that screams outsider in Valeria's border zones." A brief pause, his gaze flicking toward the exit as if he could already sense the watchers beyond the walls. "And anything that makes crossing the Valeria border easier. False papers if you have them ready, scent-masking spray, a map of the quieter checkpoints."
Marco's brows pulled together slightly at that, a flicker of concern crossing his weathered face, but he didn't question it yet. Practicality first. Always. "And food?"
