Morning at Artemis did not arrive-- it resumed.
The private elevator opened directly into the main gallery level, its polished doors parting with quiet precision.
Galathea stepped out first.
Her heels struck marble-- sharp, clean, carrying farther than they should have.
Too loud. Too present.
She noticed it immediately.
Behind her, Cael followed.
One step behind. Measured, unhurried, and unavoidable.
The shift in the room was instant.
It wasn't dramatic, not disruptive, but real.
A receptionist across the floor glanced up-- Elise Jones.
Her posture straightened too quickly.
"Good morning, Mr. Alexander. Ms. Brooks."
There was a pause between their names.
Small.
Noticeable.
Galathea didn't miss it.
"Morning," she said, with a slight tone of indifference.
Elise's smile held just a fraction too long. "You're… early."
Galathea tilted her head slightly. "Am I?"
A beat.
Elise glanced at her screen-- unnecessary. "Yes. Slightly."
"Good." Galathea moved past her.
