Lafitte glanced at Lucas, who sat looking bored in the seat of honor, then at the women beside him, each with her own thoughts. He gave a tactful bow and left on a casual pretext.
Lucas's long fingers moved deftly across the cool glow of his smart terminal. On the screen was a simple but addictive block-clearing game. Colored blocks vanished and stacked with each move, accompanied by crisp electronic chimes.
He had no interest in the mediocre pirate crews under the Flying Pirates. Rather than waste time cleaning up small fry, he preferred to pass the time playing a game.
Yamato and Hancock each brought over a chair and sat on either side of Lucas.
They picked up food from the carefully prepared platter—a tender, juicy piece of roast meat and a glistening piece of fruit—and held it to Lucas's mouth.
Their eyes met. When each saw the other making exactly the same move, both hands froze in midair. An invisible current seemed to crackle between them, sparks flying where their gazes collided.
Lucas, ever adept at giving both women equal attention, seemed completely oblivious to the tension between them.
The corners of his mouth lifted. In a flash, he darted his head forward and took the food from both women's fingers into his mouth at once.
Another tie left both women puffing their cheeks. They shot the man beside them—an undisputed master of keeping things balanced—an exasperated look, but there was nothing they could do about him.
Lucas acted as though he hadn't noticed their looks at all. He kept his head down, focused on his smart terminal as his fingers continued sliding across the screen.
The women on the sofa opposite had long since grown used to scenes like this. They exchanged knowing looks and spoke in