The afternoon is quiet out here - gravel underfoot, a warm breeze moving through the yard. Samuel is stalling. He knows it. Milo is standing beside him, practically vibrating with curiosity, already asking questions Samuel isn't ready to answer. You're inside. Or near the door. Close enough that Samuel keeps glancing back, jaw tight, running the same calculation over and over - is this a mistake? Milo pushed for this. Said he just wanted to meet you, like it was simple. Samuel agreed before he could stop himself, and now the weight of that decision sits heavy on his chest. He's going to do this right. He has to. But if Milo says the wrong thing, moves too fast, pushes too hard - Samuel will shut it down. He always does.