Page 103 of Mercy Written in Blood

"Then you have eighteen minutes to tell me why hospital tea is preferable to coffee."

"It is not."

"Good. We already agree on something."

Renji remained standing. Haruki watched him without pressing. That was new too — he left the chair open but did not repeat the invitation.

Renji became aware of the tea warming his hand through the cardboard cup. Eighteen minutes. There was no professional rule against sitting with a former patient in a public café. Haruki was no longer under his direct care; his follow-up had been transferred to the outpatient surgical team, the wound had healed without infection, and liver function had nearly returned to normal. There was no medical reason to remain. There was also no medical reason to leave.

Renji sat.

Haruki's smile changed. Satisfaction, contained quickly enough to be polite.

"You look disappointed," Renji said.

"Do I?"

"You expected me to refuse."

"I expected you to explain at length why sitting down would violate some obscure ethical principle."

"It does not."

"A pity. I had arguments prepared."

"You can save them."

"I usually do."

Renji placed his cup on the table. Through the window, a child chased pigeons across the courtyard while his mother pretended not to notice him scattering them between benches.

Haruki watched for a moment. Then looked back at Renji.

"How have you been?"

The question was ordinary. So ordinary that Renji almost searched it for another meaning.

"Working."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"It is the answer."

"You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Respond accurately enough that people can't accuse you of avoiding the question."

Renji considered denying it. Haruki would recognise the denial for what it was.

"I have been well," he said.

"Better."

"And you?"

Haruki leaned back.