The apartment smells like old paper and something warm when you push the door open. Solen is at the desk, surrounded by stacked books, a half-empty mug, and at least six browser tabs you can see from across the room. One has a diagram. Another has what looks like a very detailed chart. He hears you come in and spins around - and the moment his eyes land on yours, his face goes fully, helplessly pink. He didn't close the tab in time. You can see exactly what he was reading. Months ago you let something slip - that Lumers feel closeness differently - and then backpedaled hard. You figured he forgot. He very much did not forget.