[center][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/5gWtkdgdyt5bZt9i6n3Kqd?si=37957e6e11974ccb][img]https://i.postimg.cc/05m61xNT/Elena-Castellano-removebg-preview-1.png[/img][/url][/center][right][sub]Interactions: Loni [@FernStone], James [@NoriWasHere][/sub][/right][hr]
[indent][color=#ffffff]Loni’s words carried a brightness that made Elena’s earlier frustrations feel distant, almost as if they were fading into the background of the cozy bakery. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]It was nice—this unexpected connection. It felt like a reminder that not [/color][i][color=#ffffff]everything[/color][/i][color=#ffffff] in Cloverfield had to be a mystery or burdened by the city’s secrets. For a few minutes, it was just a mother and daughter, sharing a moment of love in the mundane, and Elena found herself drawn into the simplicity of it.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Throughout it, Elena couldn’t help but catch the way Loni looked at her daughter—with such fierce love that it almost took her by surprise. That gaze was powerful, reminiscent of how her own mother had once looked at her. It held a depth of care that seemed limitless, a kind of love that made someone willing to go to war, even if they’d never picked up a weapon before.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]But then, Luciana’s demeanor shifted, sudden as a wind changing direction, and the mood in the bakery seemed to shift with her. The air felt colder, as if all the warmth had been sucked out of the room. The child’s frightened sobs broke the comforting murmur of the bakery, piercing the soft atmosphere with a cry so sharp it made Elena’s heart clench. Luciana’s small body trembled, her tiny hands reaching out in distress, and Elena’s fingers tightened instinctively around the rim of her now-cold cup, her gaze snapping to the man near the door.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Something about him was off—she felt it in her gut before her mind could even process it. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]He stood there, dressed too perfectly, his crisp suit almost out of place among the casual patrons. The polished shoes, the overly practiced smile that stretched but never touched his eyes, all of it made her skin crawl. Elena’s nose caught a whiff of something that didn’t belong—the harsh, artificial scent of cologne, like over-brewed black tea clashing with the comforting bakery smells. It felt like an unwelcome intrusion, like a bitter herb thrown carelessly into an otherwise soothing blend. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Her mother had always taught her that if something felt wrong, it probably was. She’d once even dragged her across an entire block because of a man who’d looked at her the wrong way— [/color][color=#f881ae]“Trust your gut, always,” [/color][color=#ffffff]her mother had said, and Elena had never forgotten it. Those words had been her guide through moments of uncertainty, and right now, they were blaring in her mind like a siren. As she watched this stranger’s smile linger on Luciana, every instinct in her screamed that this was wrong. [/color]

[color=#ffffff]Luciana’s fear wasn’t unfounded simply on the basis of her being a child. It couldn’t be. [/color]

[color=#f9c2bf]“Hey,” [/color][color=#ffffff]Elena spoke up. She pushed her chair back slightly, the wooden legs scraping against the floor with a sharp sound that drew attention. [/color][color=#f9c2bf]“I think you should listen to the lady.” [/color][color=#ffffff]Her words weren’t loud, but they were firm, carrying an unspoken warning. There was no reason for a grown man to be standing there, smiling at a terrified child. Whatever his intentions were, she had no patience for it.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]Not with the way Luciana clung to her mother, hiding her face as though that smile was some kind of monster.[/color][/indent]