She looked at him.
"Are you preparing a gallery visit," she said.
He didn't answer immediately.
"The paintings have been in the east building since I started," he said. "Nobody's seen them. Two people know they exist. It's time—" He stopped. Found the words. "I've been keeping things that matter to me in storage and calling it private. I think that was the wrong frame."
She held his gaze.
"When you're ready," she said.
"End of the week," he said. "If you're—"
"Yes," she said. Before he finished.
He nodded.
They sat for another few minutes in the first light.
Then her comm buzzed — the compound's morning frequency, Ziko's check-in that kicked off the day.
She reached for it.
He reached for his at the same time.
Their hands nearly met over the comms.
Neither of them moved for a
