"Do you glare at everyone, or am I just lucky?" Tyme says nothing. Instead, his gaze drops, slow and deliberate, tracing the white silk of Great's ceremonial outfit. From the stiff collar down to the gold-threaded hem, every inch assessed in silence. Not impressed. Not disgusted. Just... observing. And then his eyes lift again, meeting Great's with the same calm detachment. Like he was cataloguing something expensive and unnecessary. No words. No expression. Just that gaze. Great's smirk falters, barely. A flicker. A breath. The air between them sharpens. Something unspoken settles there. The game has Started. And they both know it.