The main estate looked different when you were invited.
Not actually different. Same marble floors, same high ceilings, same portraits of dead Ashbournes looking severe and important. But the quality of the attention shifted. When Orion had walked these halls before, the servants had either ignored him or looked through him, the specific social skill of treating someone as furniture without being obvious about it.
Now they looked at him.
Not warmly. Not hostilely either. Just with the attentiveness of people who had updated their files on him and weren't fully sure what category he belonged in yet either the sane, dangerous or canon fodder.
He walked through it without adjusting his pace.
Luna was in cat form on his shoulder.
