who: @sofialang-ford
where: sunrise diner
Adrian slipped into the diner like someone trying not to be recognized. His hood was up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a jacket that still smelled faintly like The Lucernaâs stage lights and spilled whiskey. The usual late-night crowd barely looked up - truckers, tired nurses, and the kind of people who didn't care about last names or headlines.
He scanned the booths automatically, expecting emptiness, maybe even hoping for it, but of course, she was here. Same booth as always. Same comfort of not having to pretend. Adrian stopped two steps from the table, exhaling a laugh through his nose that sounded both amused and resigned. "You know," he said, sliding into the opposite side like it was muscle memory, "if anyone ever put the pieces together, our parents would have synchronized heart attacks."
He tugged down his hood, eyes catching the fluorescent reflection off her untouched cup of coffee. "A Sinclair and aâ" he cut himself off, lifting a hand. "No, wait. I promised I wouldn't say your last name in public. Plausible deniability and all that. So,â he said, leaning back into the booth, shoulders loosening like the tension was bleeding off him by degrees. "Long shift? Or did you just need to escape the whole," he gestured vaguely, "golden-child dynasty thing?" He cracked a tired smile. "Either way, you keep my secrets, I keep yours. That's the deal. Didn't expect to see you tonight, though."
