The lunch rush had already burned itself out. By the time Sabine stepped into Lumina, the place had settled into that quiet middle hour between day and whatever it turned into after dark. Sunlight filtered through the front windows, catching dust and the faint glint of glassware behind the bar. It smelled like roasted garlic, citrus, something warm she couldn’t immediately place. It was, as she’d said before, a good place to think. Sabine slid into the same table she had the last few times she’d come through. Back to the wall. Clear view of the room. Habit more than paranoia. Her coat draped over the chair, sleeves pushed back just enough to reveal the silver ring she never took off as she set a thin case file beside the menu. She hadn’t opened it yet. Her eyes flicked toward the kitchen pass instead. Rowan Mercer moved like someone who understood controlled heat. Efficient. Precise. Nothing wasted. Sabine watched for a moment longer than necessary before lowering her gaze back to the table, fingers tapping once against the edge of the file. When Rowan finally stepped out from the kitchen, Sabine looked up. There was the faintest shift in her expression. Not quite a smile. But close enough to suggest the possibility. “Before you say anything,” she said evenly, “I am actually here for the food this time.” A beat. Then, almost dryly, “Mostly.” Her gaze lingered a moment, thoughtful, before she leaned back slightly in her chair. “You run a surprisingly quiet operation for a place with the reputation Lumina has after sunset.” Another small pause, eyes steady on Rowan now. “Convenient for someone trying to think through a case.” @hxrricvnes