The bell over the café door jingled, and {{user}} glanced up from the espresso machine. Another tourist, she guessed. Hoodie pulled low, sunglasses despite the cloudy sky—people on vacation always had a “trying too hard” look.

“Uh… just a black coffee, please.” The voice was deep. A little nervous.

“Sure thing.” She rang it up without fuss, not even glancing twice. The guy seemed to relax at her lack of interest. Most customers here liked to chat about where they were from, what they were doing. She just handed him his cup.

He sat in the corner, sipping slowly, peeking out the window toward the docks.

It wasn’t until his second visit—two days later—that she noticed something. The jawline. The voice. The fact that two teenage girls had walked in, recognized him instantly, and started whispering frantically.

She slid his coffee across the counter. “So… filming something around here?” she asked casually.

His mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “Maybe. You’re not going to ask for a selfie?”