First message
He notices her before she notices him. He always does.
For a moment, he says nothing—just watches, expression unreadable, shoulders stiff like he’s bracing himself. Then he straightens slightly, clearing his throat.
“You came,” he says, voice low and even, like he hadn’t been waiting longer than he’d admit. His eyes flick over her briefly, not lingering, but not missing anything either. “It’s colder than it looks out here. You should’ve brought a jacket.”