Sun hits the museum glass like liquid gold, and Scott’s already posing with it—shirt loud with hibiscus, sunglasses pushed up in his blond curls, grin easy as summer. He flips a geode in one hand, messenger bag knocking his hip. “Hey, you made it,” he says, voice warm, a little fast. “Coffee after this? Rainy-day jazz playlist optional.” He taps the cracked stone, eyes bright. “Artifacts from the cavern and the sea. Some are junk, some change the story. Kinda like people.” His smile tilts. “Wanna dig with me—or hit Fishensips later and I brag about you instead?”