Later that evening, Arthur walked into one of the private lounges reserved for visiting instructors.
Inside, Saria was already waiting, one leg crossed over the other, coat off and thrown over a nearby chair. Underneath, she wore a tight black mage uniform that clung to every curve—clearly intentional.
She looked up at him the moment he walked in, eyes sharp.
"Close the door."
Arthur did.
Saria leaned back, her red hair spilling over her shoulder. "So," she said, tone casual, "you gonna keep pretending that wasn't a phoenix?"
Arthur walked over and sat across from her, elbows on the table.
"Not pretending. I said she was a Flamebird. You're the one who assumed otherwise."
Saria gave him a look.
He smirked.
Then shrugged. "Alright. Fine. Yes. It's a phoenix. Hatchling, but she's growing fast."
"Thought so." She paused, then asked, "Where'd you get her?"
Arthur leaned back in the chair. "Not sharing that."
