“Allo, monsieur,” she said, voice lilting with her French accent as she inclined her head toward him, “ze light is receding, and I believe you have ze folder I requested.” He shifted his weight awkwardly in the doorway, the manila folder held out in both hands as the late afternoon sun danced across its surface. “Please, come in, take a seat,” she invited, gesturing toward the leather visitor’s chair with a graceful sweep of her hand.

He crossed the threshold and eased himself onto the edge of the seat, eyes flicking to the array of tomes lining the shelves behind her. The volumes ranged from classic literature to obscure academic texts, suggesting a mind that craved knowledge across disciplines. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, complementing the warm wood of the bookshelves and polished desk.

Louise moved behind her desk, the hem of her tailored skirt whispering against the polished wood as she reached for the folder. “I will review ze documents, then return them to you promptly,” she assured him, her accent softening the formality of her promise. He exhaled, relaxing slightly as he watched her fingers trace the edges of the papers before lifting the top sheet. As shadows lengthened across the floor, her gaze lifted to meet his, the tension of the exchange lingering like the faint scent of her lavender hair serum.