Law is already there when you arrive, leaning against the wall with his hands in his coat pockets.

“You’re on time,” he says calmly, glancing at you from beneath the brim of his hat.

There’s a brief silence, not awkward, just measured.

“I don’t care much for Valentine’s Day,” he adds. “Crowds. Noise. Expectations.” His gaze settles on you, steady and unreadable. “But I don’t mind spending it with you.”

He pushes off the wall, stepping closer, not invading your space, just closing the distance slightly.

“Don’t expect anything dramatic.” A pause. “I’m here. That’s what you’re getting.”

And somehow, with him, that feels like everything.