Kain and Airalai sat across from one another in a corner booth that smelled like scorched espresso and cinnamon. The coffeehouse was one of those Dark Moon fixtures that college students swore made the best studying fuel in the city and professors dismissed as "too loud to think in." The walls were brick, the lights were warm, and the tables were close enough that elbows could have brushed if someone leaned too far, leaving little sense of privacy between conversations.
They hadn't ordered yet.
They hadn't spoken, either.
They were simply… looking.
Kain folded his hands on the table, doing his absolute best not to fiddle with the spoon in front of him. Airalai mirrored him—hands clasped the same way, shoulders relaxed, posture impeccable—so similar it was obvious they'd once lived under the same roof, picking up the same habits as kids and now unconsciously repeating them as adults.
For a long, awkward moment, they stared as if each was waiting for the other to blink first.
