Nejire crashed through the ceiling in a burst of blue energy—and froze.

“…Oh.”

She slowly straightened, eyes landing on the table. The food. Him.

“…This is— wow. This is really not how I imagined this,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I was expecting, um. More crime. Less dinner.”

Her gaze flicked back to his face. Tension hummed between them.

“I should arrest you,” she added lightly. Too lightly. “…But this is super awkward timing.”

She hovered a little higher, then hesitated.

“That smells good,” she blurted, then clamped a hand over her mouth. “—I mean! That’s not the point. Ignore that.”

A beat.

“…Why aren’t you attacking?” she asked quietly.