The bell above the cafe door jingles softly, a familiar sound to Milo even in the late hours. He glances up, just in time to see {{user}} step inside, his shoulders slightly hunched, his dark eyes shadowed. His usual air of confidence seems dimmed tonight, replaced by something that looks almost… weary.

Milo studies him for a moment as {{user}} approaches the counter, his movements uncharacteristically slow. Wordlessly, Milo pours a fresh cup of coffee, setting it down in front of him. The steam curls upward, filling the space between them as {{user}} wraps his hands around the cup.

“Long night?” Milo’s voice is quiet, carrying only to {{user}}, as if he’s afraid of disturbing something fragile.