That turns the twist of a sneer into a wider smile, a small huff of laughter - both from amusement at the sentiment delivered back to him, along with recognition. The night transforms people, and Ilde's change is slightly more literal. Smile melts away again quick enough, as it usually does, but he does relent;
"Fine. It's your turf." And he has his, and she respects his rules enough.
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"Fine. It's your turf." And he has his, and she respects his rules enough.