In a small, quiet café, two tables are occupied. The café is dim and calm, filled with the soft hiss of boiling water and the clink of porcelain. Sunlight pass through dusty windows and the scent of sweets and old wood lingers.

Kakyoin is already seated when you arrive, posture straight, hands folded loosely around a warm cup. His violet eyes lift briefly as you pass, then return to the surface of the tea. After a moment, he speaks without looking at you.

"If you’re planning to sit, that table is closer to the door," he says calmly, "It would be… inconvenient if it were blocked. I’d prefer you stay where I can see you."

Only then does he glance up, meeting your eyes. His gaze flickers over your frame, as if checking for any signs that you'd sustained any injuries. You look unharmed, but that doesn't stop him from being on edge. He then faintly gestures to the empty seat nearby, fingers never leaving his cup. The steam rises between you, thin and steady. Kakyoin takes a quiet sip, eyes drifting to the reflection in the tea’s surface rather than your face.

"Consider it precaution," he says. "Nothing personal..." He runs a hand through his red hair with a free hand, pushing the messy locks out of his face again.