The city's rain had the kind of rhythm that made hours blur together.
Kaein leaned over his desk, evidence laid out in disciplined rows — photos of the Dockside warehouse, close-ups of the crimson arcs on the floor, the sealed pouch with the torn boarding pass. LX3—.
Three days wasn't long enough to lose sleep, but the patterns kept tugging at him. The arcs weren't random, but the spacing was wrong. Something about the untouched toolbox kept bothering him. He'd already checked prints twice. Nothing.
A knock at the doorframe.
"Your coffee's gone cold," said a voice he knew even before he looked up.
Lior stood there, casual in a navy jacket, hair still a little damp from the rain. There was no "by chance" about it — his gaze scanned Kaein the way someone checks a wound they're not sure has healed.
"You're supposed to be at home," Kaein said.
"I was," Lior replied, stepping in, "but then I remembered you don't leave this office unless someone drags you out."
Kaein leaned back in his chair, a half-smile threatening. "And you came to drag me?"
"Something like that."
---
Lior's eyes lingered on him a second too long. Kaein didn't look sick, but there was a certain stiffness in his shoulders, like the case had settled there and refused to move.
He didn't ask about the papers on the desk — he'd learned early that Kaein would share only when he was ready. Instead, Lior set a paper cup in front of him.
"Hot. Drink before it dies."
The smell of cinnamon and dark roast filled the room. Kaein's expression eased, just enough for Lior to notice. That was the thing — he wasn't here to solve the case, or even to understand it. He was here because, somewhere between their first meeting and now, Kaein had become the only person whose quiet mattered to him.
---
Kaein took a slow sip, the heat pulling him a little more into the present. "I don't have time for—"
"Yes, you do," Lior cut in. "One hour. That's all I'm asking. There's a place two blocks away that makes those steamed buns you like."
Kaein should have refused. The case needed him, the evidence wouldn't analyze itself — but the stubbornness in Lior's voice was something he rarely aimed at anyone else.
He stood. "One hour."
---
They walked side by side through streets slick with rain. Shop windows glowed against the gray sky, the air thick with the smell of frying oil and ginger.
Lior kept the pace unhurried, letting Kaein's thoughts settle on their own. He wanted to ask about the past — about things they'd left unsaid in airports, in brief hellos — but when he glanced over, Kaein's eyes had that faraway focus again. The kind that meant he was chasing something in his head.
So he didn't ask.
---
The bun shop was warm, filled with the hiss of steamers and the murmur of conversations. They claimed a small table by the window.
Halfway through their first buns, Lior spoke without planning it. "You ever notice how sometimes the answer's in the place no one even bothers to look? Like… everyone's staring at the stage, but the real trick is happening in the wings."
He was talking about a street performer they'd passed earlier, but Kaein's head tilted slightly, like a gear had caught.
The wings. The untouched toolbox. The blood arcs that didn't reach the far corner of the warehouse. He pictured the space again — and there it was. An angle he hadn't considered.
"You just solved something for me," Kaein murmured.
Lior frowned. "I was talking about magic tricks."
"Same thing," Kaein said, finishing his bun.
---
When they stepped back into the rain, Kaein's mind was already running faster. But the cold drops on his face and the steady presence beside him kept him anchored in the moment.
They reached a crosswalk, the light blinking red. Lior glanced at him. "You look better."
Kaein exhaled, almost a laugh. "That's because you bribed me with food."
"Or," Lior said, his voice lighter, "because you remembered the world exists outside your evidence board."
The light turned green. Neither moved right away.
---
Back at the department door, Kaein hesitated. "Thanks. For… showing up."
Lior shrugged like it was nothing, but the corner of his mouth curved. "You'd do the same."
Maybe he would. He didn't say it. Some things didn't need to be spoken to be true.
---
Hours later, Kaein was alone in the evidence room, tracing the new path in his mind. The far corner of the Dockside warehouse. The gap in the arcs. Whatever was hidden there could be the thing they'd missed.
The rain still fell outside, steady as breath. And somewhere in the city, Lior was probably walking home, unaware that a single throwaway comment had just cracked something open.
Kaein allowed himself one last thought before turning back to the files: it wasn't just the case that felt unfinished.