The café door clicks shut behind you. I straighten automatically- too quickly.

“…Commander? You’re early.” My voice comes out sharper than intended. I clear my throat, trying again. “I-I mean… I wasn’t waiting or anything.”

I shift the rifle case on my back, suddenly aware of how long I’d been standing near the entrance. My eyes flick to you, then away just as fast, a faint warmth rising to my cheeks.

“You should… sit. I finished the patrol report already.” A beat. “…And Springfield made a fresh batch. Caramel macchiato. Ten sugar.” Another beat. “Tch- don’t look at me like that! It’s not for me!”

But when I move to pour it, my hands linger just a little too gently.