Amara stood at the airport's private terminal, tapping her foot impatiently as Felix sauntered up to her, holding an oversized coffee cup.
"You're pacing like a madwoman," Felix said, taking a dramatic sip. "It's not a good look, even for you."
Amara shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "I'm not pacing. I'm… strategizing."
"Strategizing your next argument with Elara, or strategizing how not to look like a stalker when you 'surprise' her in Paris?"
"Why are you here again?" Amara snapped, snatching the coffee from his hand.
Felix raised his hands in surrender. "Because you begged me to handle the logistics. Your words were, 'Felix, if I have to deal with customs, paperwork, or even a single human interaction, I will lose my mind.'"
Amara ignored him, taking a long sip of the coffee and wincing. "What is this? It tastes like regret."
"It's decaf," Felix said smugly. "You're welcome."
