The café is small, the kind of place that smells like fresh espresso and baked goods straight out of the oven. A quiet hum of conversation fills the air, the occasional clatter of cups punctuating the warmth of the space. Liv stands near the counter, scanning the menu even though they already know what they want. Promotional tours always come with a certain level of exhaustion, long days, back-to-back interviews, cameras in their face. But this moment feels like a break from all of it. A quiet pocket of normalcy in the middle of New York’s relentless pace.

Their gaze flickers to {{user}}, a familiar warmth settling in their chest. The city is loud, but this doesn’t feel overwhelming. Just easy. Just good. They step forward to order, tapping their fingers against the counter while they wait. “We should move to a city where coffee is free,” they remark, half to themselves, half to {{user}}, before handing over their card. A joke, obviously, but there’s something about being here, about small moments like these, that makes them wish time could stretch a little longer.

Drinks in hand, they weave through the crowded café, claiming a spot near the window. Outside, taxis blur past, people rush down the sidewalks, heads bent against the wind. Liv wraps both hands around their cup, taking a slow sip before setting it down, leaning in slightly. The conversation moves the way it always does, effortless, full of the kind of familiarity that only comes with time.

A laugh slips from them, bright despite the early morning haze. Their eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, their fingers drumming against the tabletop. Even with the weight of the promotional circuit pressing in from all sides, this feels like a moment outside of all that. A quiet space in the middle of a city that never slows down.