The glass cups emptied in a short time. The bar, now transformed into a scene of silent destruction among toppled chairs and shards scattered across the floor, had lost any remaining usefulness for the duo. Michael and Raniel left the establishment without looking back, walking through streets already covered by the gloom of the advancing night.
The way back led them to cross the alleys of the same park where, hours earlier, under the afternoon light, they had bumped into the detective.
As they rounded the central lawn, the silhouette of a woman sitting alone on one of the wooden benches caught their attention. Foxy was there, with her gaze lost on the line of trees lit by distant lampposts, holding a thermal cup between her hands.
Upon hearing the sound of footsteps approaching on the gravel, she raised her eyes. The initial rigidity in her posture dissolved instantly upon recognizing Michael. A genuine smile bloomed on her lips and she waved lightly with her hand, calling them closer.
Raniel slowed his pace, looked at Foxy, then at Michael, and gave a sideways smile, loaded with silent amusement. He gave two light pats on his companion's shoulder.
— Go have a few words with your "work colleague" — Raniel said, with a tone of contained mockery. — I'll walk ahead. I'll meet you at the apartment. No need to rush, enjoy the breeze.
Without waiting for an answer, Raniel turned and walked off alone in the opposite direction, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and disappearing into the shadows of the street.
Michael remained standing for a second before taking the final steps to the bench. His posture straightened, the muscles in his face relaxed by millimeters, and the empty expression gave way to a polished, welcoming, and perfectly controlled facade — the social mask he used masterfully when he needed to simulate the normality of someone who feels and interacts with the world.
— Good evening, Foxy — Michael said, with a calculated softness in his voice. — What are you doing alone here at this hour?
Foxy shrugged, adjusting the collar of her coat against the fresh wind that was beginning to blow.
— Just enjoying the breeze. I've been here since earlier... after we saw each other in the square, I ended up deciding to clear my head a little more.
Michael nodded, maintaining serenity in his gaze.
— And Bartholomew? Wasn't he with you?
— He had to leave a few hours ago — Foxy explained, giving a slight sigh. — Work matters. He runs the operations directorate and the executive board of three international conglomerates of auditing and corporate security. Let's say the contracts and financial movement of those companies don't manage themselves.
— Impressive — Michael commented, keeping a polite tone.
— Yes, sometimes even too much for my taste — Foxy smiled, raising the thermal cup. — Want a sip? It's just iced tea, but it helps warm up the night.
Michael declined with a polite gesture.
— Thank you, but I'll pass.
Foxy looked at her wristwatch, noticed the advancing hours, and began to gather her things, preparing to get up from the bench.
— Well, I think I've been here long enough. It's time to go home.
Michael took a step forward, offering his arm in a courteous and impeccable manner:
— If you don't mind... May I walk you home?
Foxy let out a light laugh, surprised and genuinely pleased by the unexpected gesture. She closed her bag and stood up, accepting the company.
— Actually, Michael... I would really appreciate it.