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“I’m sure he is. But two years of ‘maybe next time’ is a pattern.”Jennasighs. “Just be careful, okay? I’ll see you at the café in ten?”

“Make it fifteen.”

“Fine. But you’re buying my coffee to make up for being late!”

I laugh and hang up, butJenna’swords stick with me as I head for my car. Maybe she has a point aboutRoguealways finding excuses not to meet, but it feels different this time.

The late afternoon sun filters through Crimson Coffee’s windows, casting golden rectangles across the worn wooden floors. I weave between tables filled with students hunched over laptops and young professionals tapping on phones, the familiar scent of espresso and pastries wrapping around me like a hug.

Jenna’slaptop is open at our usual corner table, fingers flying across the keyboard. Her blonde hair is piled in a messy bun, held together with what looks like two pencils.

“Before you start,” I drop into the chair across from her, “I brought peace offerings.” I slide a chocolate croissant across the table, seeing her face light up despite her attempt to maintain a stern expression.

“You’re lucky I love you.” She breaks off a piece, flaky crumbs scattering across her keyboard. “Help me with this boss fight? My players are getting too cocky and need a reality check.”

I peek at her notes, squinting at her chaotic handwriting. A barista passes by, and I flag her for my usual caramel latte.

“What level are they?”

“Eight. And they just steamrolled through my carefully planned dungeon like it was nothing.” She gestures at her screen, where a complex dungeon map is filled with crossed-out traps and encounters.

“Throw a Beholder at them.” I pick at the croissant, stealing a piece for myself. “That’ll teach them to respect your authority as DM.”

“Evil. I love it.”Jennatypes furiously, her grin almost predatory. The afternoon crowd swells around us, the café filling with after-work customers seeking caffeine fixes. A group of teenagers at the next table erupts in laughter, momentarily drowning out the indie folk music playing overhead.

My latte arrives, and the barista sets it down. I take a sip, the sweet caramel cutting through the bitter espresso.

“So,”Jennasays, closing her laptop with a decisive click. “Roguesituation. Updates?”

I play it cool, but can’t help the warmth creeping up my neck. “It’s not a ‘situation.’ We game together.”

“Uh-huh.” She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “And I spent three hours picking my Discord profile pic because I’m ‘just really into photography.’”

“That’s different! You need to maintain your image as a serious Dungeon Master.”

“Right, because the cat ears filter really screams ‘fear my power.’” She flicks a croissant crumb at me.

I dodge it, laughing. Outside, the street lights flicker on as dusk settles over the city. The café’s ambient lighting shifts in response, warm bulbs casting everything in a cozy glow.

“But seriously,”Jennasays, her voice dropping as she stirs her coffee. “You’re being careful, right?”

I trace the rim of my mug as the caramel swirl dissolves into the foam. “I know, I know. Strange men on the internet, stranger danger. But we’ve been gaming together for two years, Jen. He’s not some random creep.”

A customer drops a mug at the counter, the crash momentarily silencing the café before conversations resume, slightly louder than before.

“Just promise you’ll let me meet him if he shows up at the con?”Jennareaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “My spidey senses are usually right about people.”

“Deal.” I squeeze back. “Though your spidey senses also told you that guy at last year’s convention was cosplaying Naruto when he was clearly Bleach.”

“That was ONE time!” she protests, throwing her hands up.

“Are you forgetting when you mistook a Pikachu for a Raichu?” I remind her.

Jenna’s face turns red. “That was in middle school! And they look practically identical.” She grabs her phone, presumably to do a Google image search.

“One has a long tail and is three times bigger!” I laugh, pulling my own phone out. “Look, I’ll show you.”

We huddle over our phones, shoulders bumping as we compare Pokémon images, bickering good-naturedly. The café has emptied somewhat, the after-work rush dissipating as evening settles in. Outside, streetlights cast pools of yellow on the darkening sidewalk.