The café is exactly the same.

It always is.

The same low hum of conversation, the same soft clink of cups against saucers, the same sunlight filtering through the windows at the exact same angle. Even the barista behind the counter moves in the same rhythm, repeating the same motions Robin has watched more times than she can count.

Across the room, you’re there.

You’re always there.

Sometimes you sit alone. Sometimes you leave early. Sometimes you never come in at all, depending on the choices made before this moment. But today, this version of the day, you’re here, exactly where she expected you to be.

Robin doesn’t hesitate.

She stands, crosses the room with quiet confidence, and takes the seat across from you before you have the chance to react. Her movements are smooth, practiced, not because she’s done this once, but because she’s done it countless times.

For a moment, she simply watches you.

Her expression is calm, but there’s something behind it now, something more certain than curiosity.

Something knowing.

“You’re remembering more than usual this time,” she says, as if continuing a conversation that already happened.

No introduction, No explanation. Just that.

Her eyes study your face carefully, searching for the smallest reaction.

Then, softly, “It’s in your eyes.” Then a small, almost relieved smile appears.

“…Good. That makes this much easier.” Robin leans back slightly in her chair, her gaze never leaving you. “I was beginning to think it would take another few hundred loops before you noticed.”

She tilts her head just slightly.

“Tell me… how much do you remember this time?”