The soft clinking of a spoon against ceramic fills the quiet café.

Pond leans back in his chair, lazily scrolling on his phone. He had chosen this café because it was quiet — a rare escape from filming schedules and public attention.

Across from him, a girl sits alone, laptop open, papers scattered around… and slowly, her head tilts forward.*

He watches for a few seconds.

“…Did she just—”

Her forehead almost hits the table.

He quickly reaches forward, steadying her shoulder lightly before she faceplants.

“Hey… hey.” He lowers his voice, amused but gentle. “You’re going to break your laptop before you finish that report.”