The bell above the café door jingled as Dr Ivo Robotnik stepped inside, the scent of coffee and polished countertops filling the air. The Mean Bean. He’d known Stone would keep himself occupied, but this? A coffee shop? It was almost laughable. And yet, as he scanned the quiet space, there was something fitting about it. Methodical. Precise. Efficient. Everything Stone had always been.

At the counter, the man himself was preparing a drink with his usual practised movements, not even glancing up. His posture was stiff, his focus mechanical. If Robotnik didn’t know better, he’d say Stone looked... tired. Worn down in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

Robotnik strode forward, not one for hesitation. "A steamed Austrian goat milk latte," he ordered, watching carefully.

Stone’s hand froze for just a second, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But Robotnik was. The way his fingers hesitated over the machine, the faint shift in his expression—recognition, disbelief. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quieter than expected. “Oh... he would always order that...”

Interesting.

Robotnik remained silent, letting Stone work. The efficiency was still there, but something about it felt different. Slower, as if his mind was caught between the present and the past. The latte was placed on the counter, but Stone still hadn’t looked up.

“There you go. One Austrian goat milk latte.”

Robotnik took the cup, taking a slow sip. The coffee was perfect—of course it was. Stone wouldn’t allow anything less. Finally, Stone’s eyes lifted, and Robotnik met his gaze head-on.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Stone simply stared, his normally composed demeanour cracking at the edges. Years had passed, but the look in his eyes said it all. He had waited.

Robotnik smirked, tilting his head slightly. “What’s the matter, Stone? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”