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The words catch me off guard.

Pepper looks toward the stone on the blanket. “How long was I asleep?”

“Twenty minutes,” Theo says.

“That’s not enough time to classify as a nap.”

“You stopped responding mid-sentence.”

“You snored,” I add.

Her eyes widen.

I smile. “Tiny. Very academic. Very adorable.”

Theo gives me a warning look.

Pepper studies my face, then smiles back. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

“Immensely.”

She pushes herself higher against the pillows. The movement makes her wince.

Theo is beside her before I take a step. His hand hovers near her knee. “Can I?”

She nods. He settles his palm over the blanket and waits. Pepper’s shoulders ease as his purr returns.

Her eyes move to me. “You’re fully solid.”

“For the moment.”

She studies my hands, face, shirt, then the line of my body with enough attention that heat gathers beneath my skin. Her perfume deepens.

“I want to test the stone again,” she says.

Theo’s expression hardens. “After food.”

“Agreed.”

That surprises him.

Pepper glances toward the worktable, where one of my unfinished pieces remains open on the monitor. The image is a digital composite of the cemetery paths after rain. Water overlays the oldest routes in pale blue. At the center, several burial maps and old water surveys contradict one another about where the ground and channel used to meet, so I erased that section into a white hollow.

Pepper’s gaze lingers. “You made that?”

“Yes.”

“It looks like the town is forgetting its own shape.”

The room seems to narrow around the words. I’ve never managed to explain the piece that clearly, even to myself.

“It’s unfinished,” I say.

“It already says a lot.”

I look away before she can see how much that means.

Pepper’s voice softens. “You don’t have to tell me about it yet.”