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... aming behind the counter, and low conversations weaving through the air like a quiet tide.

Harris sat near the window, his gray hair sharp and combed, a fresh cup of coffee steaming before him, its bitter aroma curling in the morning light.

His eyes, sharp and unreadable, flicked up as Kael approached, sliding into the seat opposite with a casual ease, his hazel eyes tired but alert.

"Sorry," Kael said, brushing back his tousled hair, his voice low, a faint grin tugging a ...

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