Coffee or Tea (Artskaf)

[Nora Saint-Clair]

She was trying to pay attention to Claude... honest to God, she really was, but fragments of another conversation kept snagging on her awareness like burrs.

Sanctuary… blessings…

The words sent a ripple down her spine, too pointed to ignore.

Stealing a glance was easy in a place like this. Artskaf was designed for loitering: people came and went, lingered by the windows, lost themselves in the rotating gallery of wall art. A quick look could pass as appreciating a sculpture or admiring a brushstroke. Nora let her gaze drift casually in the direction of the voices.

She spotted the girl right away. Blonde. Young. One of the faces at the Brotherhood. Nora hadn’t spoken to her much, but that didn’t matter. She remembered the girl from that day, the day she’d made a deal she still didn’t fully understand, with a man she understood too well.

She tried to shake it off, blinking back to Claude, but her words stumbled out a beat too late. “Hmm? Oh, you’re not sure. That’s cool…”

Cool? Ugh. Weak cover. She grabbed her cortado and knocked back the rest in one go. It scorched her throat, but she didn’t flinch. She’d swallowed worse.

“Anyway, I should get going,” she said, reaching for her half-eaten pastry. She bit into it mid-motion, the flaky edge catching on her lip as she stood and shrugged into her coat. Efficiency over elegance. She wasn’t here to dawdle.