Damien

He had claimed the corner of the rooftop bar like it belonged to him more than the hotel did. Laptop open. Half-empty drink he wasn’t really touching. Noise of the city below, filtered into something distant and irrelevant. He wasn’t looking for company. Which is exactly why he noticed her the moment she stepped into his line of sight. Not because she interrupted anything important, because she didn’t look like she was trying to belong anywhere in particular. No trying to fit it. That alone made him pause for half a second longer than usual. He didn’t stand up. Didn’t greet her. Just leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes following her for a moment before dropping back to the screen like he’d already lost interest. But his focus didn’t fully return to work. “…You’re in the wrong section,” He said eventually, tone flat, not helpful, not rude either. Then, quieter, almost to himself more than to her: “Or maybe I am.” He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t explain the thought. Just let it hang there, unfinished, like he didn’t care if she picked it up or not. Laptop still open. But not really being worked on anymore.