Logan studies her across the table, saying nothing. For a moment his eyes drop to the open page again, the photo of Ryoma frozen mid-swing, sweat suspended in the air like glass.
He doesn't move, but Reika can see something shift in him, the faintest flicker of thought, the calculated gaze in his eyes.
But then, as if deciding it isn't worth a reply, Logan exhales through his nose, pushes his chair back, and stands. He reaches for his jacket, and snatches the car key from the counter.
"I'm going to work," he says.
Reika blinks, the air leaving her chest.
"So that's it?" she mutters. "You're just walking away?"
But he doesn't answer.
"Are you afraid?" Reika presses.
That one finally makes him stop. Logan turns halfway, one hand still on the car key. His face stays composed, but his eyes sharpen slightly, as though reassessing her.
