The morning light was gray. It filtered through the blinds of the safehouse kitchen.
Dante sat at the table. He had not slept. His eyes were dry. Sophie moved around the room. She made coffee. She set out plates. She did not ask him if he remembered the laugh. She did not test him. She simply placed the mug in front of him. Her fingers brushed his hand.
"Drink," she said.
Dante looked up. Her eyes were calm. "Thank you," he said.
He drank. The coffee was hot. He felt the heat. Barely.
(Mūn): "She knows."
(Dante): "She says nothing."
(Kairo): "Silence is also a strategy."
Dante set the mug down. He stood up. "The briefing is in ten minutes," he said.
"I will be there," Sophie said.
She turned to the sink. She washed the spoon. She dried it. She placed it in the drawer. Every movement was economical. No wasted motion. Dante watched her. He had watched her for years. But today, he saw the edges.
He walked out of the kitchen.
***
The briefing room was cold.
