The battle in the American canyon was still fresh in the Bookman's mind. The Earl was upset and strangely emotional. He hadn't shown it on the battlefield, yet when they'd returned, he'd nearly collapsed, sobbing into his hands. It was a strange sight to see. Even Lavi felt it pull on his heart.

"We follow the Earl unquestioningly," Rhode had told Lavi, "yet sometimes, we still wish to understand his decisions." It was an incredibly human thing to say. Lavi knew the Noah well enough to not be surprised by the statement, though he was incredibly intrigued.

Before his curiosity could be satiated, the Earl shooed Lavi off to Cyril's house. Hardly an uncommon action, as the Bookman tended to bounce between the Earl and Cyril's mansions. Cyril's always had a different feel, however, as it appeared incredibly human. No akuma waitstaff bustling about. No secret rooms or magical libraries to explore. It was pretty human straight down to Cyril's human wife and fluffy white dog.

Lavi didn't mind spending time at Cyril's place, though there seemed to be some silent requirement to stuff the Bookman into formal clothes. Perhaps this was just Cyril and his need to dress people up. Rhode had a fondness for it too, and both often managed to shove the redhead into a formal suit and a fluffy bow tie.

This visit, however, Lavi had felt terrible. Somehow he'd managed to stand the entire battle through but as soon as he got to Cyril's place, he promptly fainted on the tea room floor. He'd taken a serious beating from the Exorcists and had experienced a lot of blood loss from the untreated wound on his arm. Tying a scrap of fabric around his arm just wasn't going to cut it.

He awoke to find his arm had been very neatly stitched and bandaged up. Cyril must've called a doctor to treat his arm. Someone had laid out clothes for him on the chair next to the bed, all formal attire, of course. Lavi wasn't quite sure how long he'd been out, but as this wound was much less severe than the one that nearly carved out his heart, it couldn't be more than a day or two.

Still the wound was a fresh and quite painful reminder that he still was human and the Order still wanted him dead. For the first time, however, he could put a face to the man who ordered him killed. That strange man with the toothbrush mustache, Rouvelier. Lavi wasn't entirely certain the man had survived, unable to spot him among the remains before leaving, yet somehow Lavi was certain that horrible man still lived on. Not for long, the redhead reasoned, as the Noah would certainly curb this war to their favor. After all, they'd managed to infiltrate and completely destroy an Order headquarters. And now that Kanda was out of the way in his futile attempt to save Alma, Lavi could move about freely, at least when his arm healed.

But right now, he just wanted tea.

…

Dressed in black slacks, house shoes, a white collared shirt and a green vest, Lavi shooed away the kitchen staff in an attempt to retrieve a cup of tea for himself. One of the maids handed him a fresh cup of black tea with honey and sugar - they were certainly accustomed to Rhode's sweet tooth - and gently shoved him out the kitchen door. It always seemed simpler at the Earl's estate. He could get tea as he pleased, since the Akuma generally let him do whatever he wanted.

He frowned at the now-closed kitchen door before taking a sip of tea. It was surprisingly good. Somewhat satisfied, he turned and found himself staring at a man of similar height, his eyes hidden by a dark, limp, rather messy mop of hair. One side was longer, framing his face, tied together with two white bands. He was muscular, the shapes of his arms quite visible through the shirt that seemed a size too tight, probably one of Cyril's on loan. He looked human, his skin a hint of Mediterranean or Middle Eastern, hard to tell, possibly a mix.

There was only one person who fit the bill. "Toraido," Lavi greeted him. Truly, he was the last Noah Lavi had expected to see at Cyril's place. He was the judge of the Noah family, the one to find traitors among the family. Lavi wasn't entirely certain how he did this, whether it was a test of mind or spirit or something completely different. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Toraido, nor was he entirely certain he could talk. Perhaps another silent Noah like Lulu Bell. At least he wasn't a kitty.

Slouching slightly, Toraido folded his arms, his expression stoic and serious. He paused for a moment as if scrutinizing Lavi, observing his stance, demeanor, voice, and his choice of tea. He knew the Earl kept him close but knew little about what a Bookman really was. "Tamiz." His voice was deep and sharp.

"You speak," Lavi blurted out stupidly. He hadn't expected Toraido to speak. The name was Arabic in origin, somewhat archaic, and meant something along the lines of Justice. Fitting.

"I choose not to," Tamiz said sharply, contrasting the slight smile cracking his features. Lavi was alright, after all. It was just as Wisely had said. The Bookman's loyalty to the family was genuine. Tamiz saw no reason that Lavi would ever betray the Noah.

"Hey, ya like tea?" Lavi offered. "It's halfway decent, certainly drinkable. I'm sure I could getcha some outta these rather pushy maids." Even after all this time with the Noah, Lavi still preferred to do things himself. He didn't like people doing things for him, unless it somehow involved saving his life. That he still needed. The pain tracing a line up and down his arm reminded him of that.

"Not necessary," Tamiz replied. The kitchen door suddenly opened, and one of the maids handed Tamiz a fresh cup of tea before shutting the door. "They were expecting me."

Lavi stared for a moment. The timing was impeccable, uncanny really. It left Lavi wondering how the timing was so perfect.

"Have you ever played Senet before?" Tamiz inquired, turning around to head to the tea parlor.

"I'm familiar with it," Lavi replied, following him to the parlor. Senet was a board game with its origins deeply rooted in Ancient Egypt. In his studies of ancient history, Lavi came across the game repeatedly, as well as similar ones reaching Mesopotamia. It was rather similar to backgammon, though the pieces were different. It was a game linked to luck and was widely believed, in later Dynasties, that it controlled one's destiny in the afterlife.

The two sat down with their tea. Tamiz pulled out the board from the side table and set it up, placing the pieces meticulously on the board after touching the board with a finger or two. It was a rather odd mannerism leading Lavi to question if Tamiz was partially blind. Blind Justice.

Tamiz picked up the dice sticks. "Let's play with destiny, shall we?"

….

Author's notes:

I wanted to include Toraido somehow. I fashioned him after a modern take of an ancient pharaoh, someone incredibly strong and lucky. In Ancient Egypt, justice was absolute and was an extremely important aspect of society. The gods would judge a person's soul and heart to determine their fate in the afterlife (eternal torture or becoming one with the sun god). Luck also played a big factor in the culture, believed to be linked to one's own personal success and favor of the gods. It was believed that Senet would rely on one's luck and favor of the gods.