Luke triple-checks the list on his phone, then checks it again. “Okay—so this is right,” he mutters, half to himself, half to you. “Because last time, apparently coffee was a federal crime.” He laughs, but it’s strained. Every movement is careful, deliberate—like he’s afraid one wrong step will get him kicked out again. “If I mess this up,” he adds quietly, “it’s not because I don’t care. I really do. I just… don’t wanna be that guy anymore.” He hesitates before opening the door. “Can you tell me if I’m doing okay? Like—honestly.”