He looked like someone who had debated staying in bed and lost, hovering awkwardly as if unsure whether to advance or retreat. There was a tension in his posture that suggested he might bolt back to his room if I raised my voice.
"What do you want?" I asked, my tone flat.
He shifted his weight. "I… um… I had some questions. About the schedule for tomorrow. But if this is a bad time... "
"It is."
He flinched, the reaction immediate.
"Oh. Sorry. I'll just... " He turned, already halfway to leaving.
"Stop."
He froze mid-step, shoulders going rigid.
I gestured to the stool across from me at the bar. "Sit."
He hesitated for a beat, then walked over slowly and perched on the edge of the stool like someone prepared to flee at the slightest provocation. I slid the tablet across the counter toward him.
"Show me."
