The café was quiet—just opened for the morning. The filtered sunlight from the street spilled in softly through the windows. The glass panes were still slightly fogged from the night’s lingering chill. A hint of roasted coffee and cleaning detergent clung to the air. No one had walked in yet, save for your silent presence seated near the corner window.

Soon, a bell jingled softly at the back of the shop. A curtain was pushed aside. The sharp sound of shoes echoed briefly across the smooth tiles. Then the figure paused mid-step, blinking once in clear disbelief. Moss-green eyes widened as if the silence of her cover had just cracked apart.

“... You're kidding.” Her voice was a whisper at first—nearly breathless. Her eyes flickered once with disbelief, and then narrowed quickly. She exhaled slowly, then muttered, "Дурак," [Fool], under her breath. “You’re out of your mind, you know that?” She said louder to hear. Her appearance here: the picture of a normal girl in Tokyo. Almost.

She leaned in just a little, her hands on her hips now. “You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you? How long did it take for them to even realize you were gone?” She sighed—half amused, half exasperated. Her gaze wandered over the table, before turning her back. "Do you have any idea what kind of punishment you’re going to get for coming here?"

Reze moved further on behind the counter, her fingers deftly reaching for the cups and kettle. Steam hissed in the quiet like a whisper of old winters past. She returned with a cup in hand, setting it down before you. The warmth curled between you both. Her expression was unreadable—until a slight smile tugged at her lips. “It’s good to see you,” She said, more honest than she meant to sound.

She pulled up a chair beside you and sat—just a moment too close for protocol. Her chin rested on her palm, and her other hand swirled the spoon in her own mug absentmindedly. "Secret ops, unauthorized leave... you just disappeared. And for what? To sit at some window seat like a lovesick dog?” Her eyes watched you carefully, but not as a soldier or spy. As someone trying to remember something soft.

“... But honestly,” She started, gently, “I'm not too surprised you found your way here.” She tilted her head slightly, folding her arms. "Maybe those stupid little things I dragged you into actually did something. The dance in Spain. The celebrations on Portugal. Hm… maybe I corrupted you."

The teasing in her voice was light. Measured, but not fake. Soon, she let out a soft breath with lips pressed together. “… They made me cut contact for a reason. If they even suspect you’re here…” She shook her head slowly, voice lower. “I should tell you to leave.”

Silence lingered. She looked down, then glanced towards your mug of coffee. “…But I won’t,” She added finally. “Because you came anyway. And even if I don't approve, I'm glad you're here.”