Page 52 of Somno Slave

“Come sit,” she says, already shifting. She nudges one of the guys at the end of the table with her knee. “Move up, you’re taking up half the bench.”

There’s a bit of groaning, a shuffle of bodies and glasses being lifted out of the way, but it happens quickly enough.

He slides in.

“I’m Joe,” he says, turning slightly towards me as he settles. His gaze finds mine immediately.

“Rheda.”

He repeats it once, softer. He nods towards my glass.

“What are you drinking?”

“Vodka cranberry.”

“Gosh,” he says, smiling properly now. It settles into him more naturally this time. “I made the mistake of starting on those once. Thought I’d powered through it until I stood up and immediately regretted every decision I’d ever made.”

“That’s exactly how it goes,” I laugh.

His shoulders loosen as he leans back slightly, one arm resting along the back of the bench but not encroaching.

“So, what do you do, Rheda?”

“I’m a criminal doctor.”

His eyes widen.

“That’s actually... really impressive,” he says. “I work in mental health support. Nothing like that level, but—” He shrugs, a little self-conscious. “I guess I get a tiny glimpse of it.”

That catches my attention more fully. “What, like community work?”

“Yeah. Mostly with younger clients.” He glances down at his hands for a second, then back up. “It’s not glamorous or anything, but... it matters. On a good day, at least.”

“It does,” I smile. “More than people give it credit for.”

He lets out a small breath at that, like he didn’t realise he was waiting to hear it.

“Sometimes, though, it just feels like you’re... circling the same things with them,” he admits. “Trying to get them to trust you and most of the time they just shut down anyway.”

I nod before I can stop myself. “Yeah. Or they say exactly what theythinkyou want to hear and nothing real ever actually comes out of it.”

His eyebrows lift slightly. “Exactly. And you can feel it, can’t you? When it’s not real. I don’t know why they do that. We’re just trying to help. There’s no use in lying!”

“Always,” I say. “It’s in the pauses more than the words.”

He studies me for a second, something like recognition settling in. “That’s—yeah. That’s exactly it.”

There’s a small shift in him then, less guarded. He smiles again, softer this time.

“I guess it’s the same thing, just... different settings,” he says. “It’s nice to meet someone else in the sector.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”

He leans closer, and at this distance, I note that he’s handsome. Warm eyes. Slightly uneven smile. There’s still a trace of that earlier nervousness in him, but it sits alongside an easy kindness.

And I’m not working for this.

That’s what stands out.