The sound returns first.
It's faint.
It feels wrong.
It slithers in beneath the bassline with a subtle buzz, then a crackle much like feedback from a speaker that isn't there. The Ice King's smile fades, just slightly as his gazes down at the crowd.
I catch it too.
There is a distortion in the rhythm. A breath that is held too long. A figure moving too smoothly through the chaos below.
It shouldn't be noticeable, I mean not with all the bodies pulsing to the beat and certainly not with the way the strobe lights fracture movement into blurs but something about it sets my nerves on edge. The odd movements registers in my spine before it reaches my brain.
The Ice King's eyes darken.
But he doesn't speak.
He just... shifts.
Not away and not out of fear, but with the cold efficiency of a man used to anticipating violence before it begins. He positions himself in front of me, just slightly but enough that if a shot came through the glass, it would hit him first. His hand brushes against my h
