The path through the university's west garden glowed under amber lamps. Fallen jacaranda petals painted the walkway in shades of purple and dusk. Alexis walked at a calm pace, hands in his coat pockets, while Iris matched his stride, arms crossed loosely, her brow slightly furrowed.
They hadn't spoken since she called his name. Now, as the gentle hush of the evening wrapped around them, she glanced sideways.
"You're surprisingly hard to catch alone," she said finally.
Alexis smiled faintly. "Maybe I walk too quietly."
"Or maybe you vanish when people aren't looking."
He tilted his head. "I think you're confusing me with ghosts."
She chuckled, but her gaze lingered on him longer this time. He didn't fill silences with unnecessary words. He didn't fidget. And most notably—he never asked questions back. Always listening. Never probing.
"Want coffee?" he asked, nodding toward a campus-side café still lit.
"Sure."
They took seats at a corner table near the window. The place was nearly empty, save for a trio of students arguing over philosophy flashcards. Iris leaned back, watching as Alexis placed a simple order—black coffee for himself, iced tea for her.
"You remembered," she said, surprised.
"I remember small things," he replied.
She tilted her head. "But never talk about yourself."
He didn't answer immediately. The drinks arrived. He stirred his coffee once.
"Some people talk too much," he said mildly. "I prefer to listen."
Iris studied him. It wasn't evasive. It was true. But it wasn't the whole truth either.
"You've got the kind of calm that makes people suspicious," she said.
"That's a very specific compliment."
"I mean it. You never complain. Never rush. Never forget an assignment. You exist at the edges, and no one really knows you."
Alexis sipped his coffee. "You've been watching."
She shrugged. "I observe. It's what I do. Doesn't mean I'm right. Just… curious."
A beat passed. Then, with a small smirk, he said, "Curiosity can be dangerous."
"So can silence."
Another pause. Then, unexpectedly, she leaned in slightly and nodded at his hand.
"That ring you wear—where'd you get it?"
Alexis didn't glance at the band. He simply turned the cup slightly in his hand.
"Gift," he said simply. "Nothing dramatic."
"But you always wear it."
"Habit."
She gave him a look. "A very consistent habit."
Alexis met her gaze fully. For a moment, the air between them seemed to sharpen.
"And if I said it was from a dead uncle with too much flair?"
"I'd say you're lying, but at least you've got style."
He laughed softly. "Fair."
The mood softened again. She didn't push further. And he didn't run. They just sat there, like two players at the beginning of a long, slow game.
"You're interesting, Alexis," she said finally.
"I'm ordinary."
"You're pretending."
He said nothing.
The walk back to the dorms was slower. A breeze stirred fallen petals along the edge of the curb. Iris kicked a few absentmindedly.
"I think you're hiding something," she said, not looking at him.
"I think everyone is," he replied.
"But your something feels… deliberate."
He didn't answer, but his steps never faltered.
Finally, outside her dorm, she paused.
"Thanks for the tea."
"Anytime."
She hesitated, then turned, walking up the stairs.
Halfway up, she glanced over her shoulder. He was still there, standing under the lamp, unreadable.
She didn't wave.
He didn't either.
But as she disappeared inside, Alexis let out a slow breath and walked on. His phone buzzed once in his pocket.
System: "Client 003 has sent encrypted inquiry. Metadata scrubbed. Pattern: cautious. Possible testing."
He murmured to himself, "The world moves faster than expected."
But in his mind, it wasn't Client 003 that lingered.
It was Iris's voice.
"You're pretending."
And for once, Alexis wasn't sure if he'd deflected well enough.