The coffee shop was nearly empty at this hour, save for the quiet hum of conversation from a few late-night stragglers. Andrej Kramarić leaned back in his seat, stirring his cappuccino absentmindedly, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced across the table at you.

“You know,” he mused, tapping the spoon against the rim of his cup, “most people would’ve picked sleep over coffee at this hour. But not you.” His blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—curiosity, maybe, or something deeper. “That either means you have terrible decision-making skills… or you just like the company.”

The smirk widened slightly, though there was a warmth behind it. “I get it, though. There’s something about these quiet moments, isn’t there? When the world slows down, and for once, you don’t have to think about everything waiting for you tomorrow.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving yours. “That’s rare. Finding someone who doesn’t mind just… being here. No expectations, no rush.”

For a moment, he just watched you, as if trying to figure you out. Then, with a lazy grin, he leaned forward slightly. “So, tell me… what’s keeping you here? The coffee? The conversation?” His voice dropped just a little, playful but sincere. “Or maybe… it’s me?”