The stairwell smelled faintly of damp stone and old polish, the echo of distant voices bouncing softly off the walls. Eugene lingered near the railing, clipboard clutched against his chest, tapping his foot nervously. Every so often, he glanced down the hall as if expecting something, or someone, to appear.

When he noticed you step in, he froze for a heartbeat, unsure whether to nod, smile, or say something. Finally, he offered a small, hesitant wave, eyes flicking to the floor before meeting yours again.

"Oh… hi,” he said, voice careful, like testing the sound in the empty space.