Dahlia settled upon the bench, her hands a gentle flurry of motion as she tended to her hair, a hint of blush upon her cheeks, a testament to the thrill of the chase that had now subsided, Anton approached, a smile still lingering upon his lips, his expression one of contentment.
"Here." He said, his voice a gentle murmur that seemed to carry a hint of satisfaction, as he offered a bottle of smoothie to her, his hands a steady presence that seemed to speak of a newfound comfort.
And as Dahlia accepted the bottle, her eyes fell upon the familiar sight of her sketchbook.
"How did you get that?" She asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her gaze upon the book, a question that seemed to demand an answer.
Anton met her gaze, his expression a knowing smile that seemed to hold a hidden truth, he replied, his words a gentle tease that seemed to suggest a shared understanding.