[right][h2][color=8882be]Sirpa's Catharsis[/color][/h2][@silver21][/right]

[color=808080]The coffee shop hums with low conversation and quiet activity. A person in a business suit types furiously on a laptop. Someone stares into their mug like it holds answers. In the corner, a figure sketches in a worn notebook, and near the window, two people speak in hushed tones over shared pastries. All of them are absorbed in their own worlds, too focused to notice the Keeper beginning to move.

The Keeper shouldn't be able to navigate the coffee shop—too large by half, maybe more—but they do, weaving between furniture and beneath the low ceiling as though size were merely a suggestion. They carry a tray: a simple wooden thing with a glass pitcher of iced water and a single cup.

When the Keeper reaches Sirpa's armchair by the fireplace, they place the cup on the small table beside her and lift the pitcher. The water fills the cup to just below the rim in one smooth pour, which seems to please the Keeper.

[i]"Would you like to order something?"[/i][/color]