Don gave a confident nod, a small smile appearing at the edge of his lips as he gestured toward a nearby bench. "Well, let's take a seat," he said casually, his tone as even and relaxed as his movements.
Elle nodded, her expression briefly unreadable as she followed his lead. Her boots barely made a sound against the polished floor as they crossed the grand mosaic beneath them.
The bench, smooth and cold to the touch, sat nestled near the edge of pool, framed by soft recessed lighting. Don sat first, leaning back and resting one arm along the top of the bench's support, his gaze sweeping over the details of the room.
Elle hesitated for just a second before sitting a few inches away from him, her hands resting awkwardly in her lap. Don caught the movement in his peripheral vision—her fingers, constantly shifting, twiddling together as if they were trying to knit air into something tangible.
