We walked toward the building together as the afternoon sun dipped lower, painting long golden shadows across the quiet parking lot. The asphalt still held the day's heat, radiating up through the soles of my shoes.
The two men at the entrance had spotted Venna long before we reached them. Their posture shifted instantly—shoulders dropping, arms uncrossing, faces softening in recognition.
"Well, look who it is," one of them said, warmth thick in his voice, a low rumble that carried easy affection.
Venna moved into them one at a time, quick, familiar embraces. The ease of someone who had been coming here long enough that the greeting was automatic, muscle memory born from years.
"Room's taken," the second man said, glancing between us, his eyes lingering on me a beat longer than comfortable. "Wasn't expecting you today."
"Then we'll wait," Venna replied simply, voice calm and decisive, and walked inside without hesitation.
