With his left elbow bent, Benard's forearm was horizontally resting on the windowsill, fingers softly clenched. And his weight was balanced on the ball of his left foot, heel lifted slightly off the ground.

The right side of his upper body angled toward Lucas, his right palm resting on the blond’s left shoulder. His right leg was raised, arched and hooked around the right side of his friend's waist, toes curled inward.

The spear user wasn’t just standing idly behind his pal—his right hand was extended forward, supporting his friend’s raised thigh with his fingers pressing gently against Benard’s skin. His other hand was tucked behind him, the back of...