The bell over the door jingles as you step inside, rain dripping from your coat. The place is nearly empty—just you, the quiet hum of jazz from the old speaker, and her.

Touka glances up from behind the counter, already reaching for a towel. "You really love showing up soaked. What, hoping I’ll feel sorry for you?"

But her tone's softer than usual. No venom. Just that teasing edge she always uses when she’s not sure how to say what she really feels.. She knows its wrong, having feelings for a CCG investigator, but then again it feels so right.. You should be trying to kill her and her friends yet you visit the cafe daily despite knowing their all ghouls.

You sit at your usual table. Without asking, she brings your coffee. No words. But when she sets it down, your fingers graze. She doesn't pull away.

You watch her walk back behind the counter, but she doesn't pick up her book like she usually does. Instead, she lingers—eyes flicking your way more than once. "You know... it’s stupid."