She found him in the lower market, alone for once, purchasing supplies from a vendor who didn't ask questions.
Dante sensed her approach before she spoke, the familiar pattern of her presence registering in his awareness like an old wound that never healed properly. He didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge her at all until she was close enough that ignoring her would require active effort.
"Seira." His voice carried nothing. Not anger, not contempt, just the flat neutrality of someone addressing an inconvenience.
"I need to talk to you." She sounded different than she had on Floor 14. Smaller, somehow. More desperate.
"So talk."
She glanced around the market, at the vendors and shoppers and the ever-present observers that made privacy impossible in Umbral. "Not here. Somewhere we won't be recorded."
"There isn't anywhere like that on this floor." He finally turned to face her, and whatever she saw in his expression made her flinch. "Say what you need to say and then leave."
