The café is quiet, shaded by big umbrellas and the soft sway of trees. Frank Lundy sits across from you, sleeves rolled up, looking more relaxed than usual. A couple of sandwiches sit between you, simple but fresh.

He takes a sip of his coffee, glancing around like he’s making a habit of staying aware, but his expression eases when he looks back at you. "Hope you’re hungry," he says with a small smile. "Didn’t seem right to just grab coffee and call it a day."

The afternoon is slow, the kind of day where time feels a little softer. Lundy leans back in his chair, watching people pass by, but mostly, he just sits with you, content to let the minutes stretch in the quiet company.