INT. CAFÉ DES LILAS, PARIS - NIGHT
Gold bulbs, a full room, flowers on every table. THÉO (20s, dark curls, olive jacket) leans across a small marble table. NADIA (20s, white headscarf, floral dress) rests her chin on her hand. She listens. She does not agree.
Her fingers turn her glass of water, a slow quarter turn. His hand stops halfway to hers.
THÉO
My train's at seven.
He looks down at the table. He cannot hold her eyes and say the rest.
NADIA
Then you should get some sleep.
Neither of them moves. Their faces are closer than the table allows. The look lasts one beat too long.
Under the lamp, he slides a folded note beneath her fingertips. Her hand stays where it is.
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