The bakery smelled of warm bread and cinnamon, the air thick with comfort. Lukas had invited the others to spend the afternoon there, away from the quiet tension of the house. Étienne leaned against the counter, elegant even in casual clothes, while Adrian sat at a corner table with his notebook open. Callum, still uneasy but slowly warming to them, perched on a stool, watching Lukas knead dough with practiced ease.
"Bread is sport enough," Lukas said with a faint smile, his hands pressing rhythmically into the dough. "It keeps me strong, keeps me calm."
Callum laughed. "That's not sport, that's work. What do you actually do for exercise?"
Lukas shrugged. "Running. Long distances. It helps me control the wolf. Clears my head."
Étienne raised an eyebrow, sipping from his glass of dark liquid. "Running is admirable, but fencing is art. Precision, elegance, discipline. I practiced it for decades. It keeps the reflexes sharp."
Adrian looked up from his notes. "I play tennis when I travel. Sometimes yoga, when the stress of diplomacy grows too heavy. It teaches balance."
Callum smirked. "I box. Helps me stay fit. And I jog around the fields near the house. Keeps me sharp."
The four exchanged glances, each sport reflecting their nature. Lukas, steady and enduring. Étienne, refined and precise. Adrian, balanced and thoughtful. Callum, strong and direct.
Later, they decided to test themselves.
In the fields behind the house, Lukas challenged Callum to a run. The werewolf's stride was effortless, his breath steady, while Callum pushed hard, sweat dripping down his brow. Adrian watched, amused, while Étienne stood with arms crossed, commenting on their form like a coach.
"Your stride is too heavy," Étienne called to Callum. "You waste energy."
Callum shot him a glare. "You try running, then."
Étienne chuckled. "I prefer elegance over endurance."
The next day, Adrian set up a small net in the garden, inviting Lukas to try tennis. Lukas swung clumsily at first, laughing at his own mistakes, while Adrian moved with practiced precision. Étienne observed, offering critiques, while Callum teased Lukas for missing every ball.
"Diplomats play tennis," Lukas said, catching his breath. "Bakers bake bread."
"And vampires fence," Étienne added with a grin.
Finally, Callum convinced Adrian to join him in a boxing session. They set up in the living room, gloves padded, movements careful. Adrian was cautious, his strikes measured, while Callum pressed forward with youthful energy. Lukas watched from the sofa, amused, while Étienne clapped politely at each exchange.
"You are too kind, Adrian," Étienne remarked. "Boxing is not negotiation. It is war."
Adrian smiled faintly. "Even in war, there is strategy."
The sports became more than games. They became a way to understand each other — to see strength, discipline, balance, and endurance in motion. For a brief time, the house was filled with laughter, teasing, and camaraderie.
But beneath the joy, tension lingered. The world outside was not so kind. And soon, their bond would be tested not by sport, but by fight.
The first brawl was coming.