Blackberry and burnt sugar.
Espresso and molasses.
Hojicha and sesame.
I couldn't smell it. I knew that. My nose registered only the clean, scrubbed scent of aggressive air filtration.
But Ifeltit. A hum in the air. A color in the noise floor.
I walked down the narrow corridor, past the bunks, toward the back lounge.
The door was open.
They were there.
Alfie was sitting on the floor, back against the sofa, wearing that ridiculous pink coat like a security blanket. His knee was bouncing.
Kit was standing by the kitchenette counter, gripping the edge like he was holding the bus together by force of will.
Euan was seated at the small table, laptop open, hands flat on his thighs.
When I stepped into the doorway, they all froze.
Total stillness.
Alfie’s knee stopped bouncing. Kit's breath hitched. Euan’s eyes locked onto me, wide and terrifyingly focused.
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody rushed to hug me or claim me or demand why I’d run.
They just waited.
I looked at Alfie. I saw the Sharpie on his thumb, fresh and black. ASK > ASSUME.
I looked at Euan. I saw the tension in his jaw, the sheer physical effort of not calculating the distance between us.
I looked at Kit. I saw the tattoos on his arms, ink and muscle, and the way he’d leaned away from the counters to give me more line-of-sight.
They were terrified. Not of me. Ofcontaminatingme.
"The mix," I said. My voice was steady, clearer than I expected. "The vocal clean-up. On the track."
Alfie blinked, as if surprised I was speaking English and not some divine language. "It... yeah. It sounded like you. It sounded like what I wanted to say, but... tuned."
"The attack time on your compressor was criminal," I said, stepping fully into the room. "And you need to stand six inches back from the mic capsule."
Alfie let out a breath that sounded like a laugh breaking in half. A grin, sharp and wet and real, cracked his face open. "Copy that."
"I have terms," I said, looking at Euan.
"Contract is prepared," Rowan’s voice came from the corner I hadn’t looked at yet. She was there, blending into the shadows, tablet in hand. "Thirty-seven pages. I drafted it on the flight."
"I have immediate terms," I corrected.
"Name them," Euan said. His voice was rougher than usual.
I looked at the three of them. I fingered the Exit Card in my pocket, just to feel the edge. Then I let it go.
"One, I get the bunk in the back. The one with the extra soundproofing."
