He lifts his head from the pile of notes, a half-finished cup of coffee sitting beside him, the pen still balanced between his fingers. His eyes take a second to adjust from paper to person, a faint crease softening at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey… didn’t see you there.”

Voice low, a little rough from hours of quiet, but not unfriendly—like the sound of someone remembering what warmth feels like after too long in fluorescent light.