"Hello, Grim," Liona said softly. "It's been a long time."
For a moment, neither spoke. Liona took in the changes twelve years had wrought on the boy she once knew. Shirtless. Grim's body showed years of harsh discipline and conditioning. Lean muscle wrapped his frame like coiled steel. The boyish softness was gone, replaced by the hardened edges of a warrior.
[She's studying you,] the voice noted.
Grim remained silent, acutely aware of the voice's observation.
"I didn't expect to find you cultivating so soon after your match," Liona said, breaking the silence as she moved further into the garden. "Most competitors would still be recovering."
"Most competitors aren't trying to kill their father," Grim replied.
[Blunt as ever,] the voice commented, amusement evident in its tone. [Though her reaction suggests she wasn't expecting such candor.]
Indeed, Liona had paused mid-step, surprise flashing briefly across her face.
"May I?" she asked, gesturing to a stone bench nearby.
