A further night. [ He says without thinking, mind two steps behind. He pauses so it can catch up, churning through believable options for a convincing lie.

He remembered that night, the one Oren spoke of. Recalled sitting by his side as cheers called up from dance pavilions below and lanterns swayed with the music. It had been humid, having rained the day before, and his hair had been a mess. Oren had made more than one teasing comment on it. That was when the charade was still in full. Before the night of chaos that was Nocta's reveal.

Oren couldn't know that he had come after. Couldn't let him know of his own knowledge of Enkythos, of failure, of his death. It was too dangerous, or so he told himself, though the reasons it held risk escaped him. They didn't matter.

All that mattered was the lie.] We fought. Over food, of all things. [ He chuckles and, surprisingly, it sounds natural.] You insisted grape leaves were superior to Orphlegian mrouzia. Somehow, it brewed from there. [He calls forth a sad smile, much easier than the laugh.] We haven't spoken in days. I believe you were avoiding me.

[Hopefully, that's enough. A good enough explanation and a good enough reason for his prior reaction.]