'Did Something...Happen?'

'Oh, it's just Cashew.'

Florian let out a slow breath, only then realizing how tightly wound his body had been. His fingers, curled against his sleeves, relaxed slightly. The knock had sent a brief wave of unease through him—sharp and cold—but now that he saw who it was, some of that tension faded.

And yet… not completely.

He opened the door.

Cashew stood before him, balancing a tray of food with careful hands. The boy's shoulders were slightly hunched, his grip firm yet delicate—so practiced, so controlled.

"Cashew!" Florian greeted, his lips curving into a small, relieved smile.

Cashew dipped his head slightly. "I'm sorry I'm late," he murmured, voice soft. "The food took longer than usual."

Florian waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Cashew stepped inside, his movements as careful as always—but there was something about them that nagged at Florian. He couldn't quite place it, but it was there.