"Oh, you finally made it, white-haired boy."

Neo stopped a few steps into the room and looked at her with the flat expression of someone already regretting several choices at once.

"I have a name," he said, the door closing behind him with a soft click. "You’ve had it for a while now, in case rich people forget things faster."

Vivienne’s smile deepened by a fraction. She set the glass down on the table without hurry and turned toward him fully, one hand resting lightly against the back of her chair. The city burned behind her through the glass, gold draining into violet, the whole skyline stretched out below like it had been laid there for her convenience.

"I remember your name perfectly, Neo," she replied. "I just enjoy that one more."

"I noticed."

The giant driver moved off to one side after bringing him up, silent as ever, and stopped near the wall far enough not to intrude on the table, close enough to break someone in half if needed. Neo gave him a glance, then looked back at Vivienne.

"You really went all out for this," he said. "The car. The suit. The empty restaurant. You forgot the part where I’m supposed to feel grateful."

Vivienne’s mouth curved again. "Did they force you into the clothes?"

Neo stared at her.

"I’m deciding whether that’s a joke."

"It is."

"Then it’s not a good one."

She let out a quiet breath through her nose, amused enough not to bother hiding it, and gestured toward the table. "Sit. You’ve already spent enough time looking offended for one evening."

Neo stayed where he was for a moment longer, partly out of spite, partly because he wanted her to wait. The floor beneath his shoes probably cost more than a Zone 0 family saw in half a year. The tablecloth looked like something a person should sign before touching. The cutlery carried a shine that belonged in auctions, not dinners. Everything in the place had the clean precision of money polished until it became atmosphere.

It annoyed him on instinct.

Even so, he walked forward and took the seat across from her.

The chair alone was softer than it had any right to be.

Vivienne sat after him, crossing one leg over the other in a movement so easy it would have looked casual on anyone else. On her, in that red dress with the silver pendant at her throat, even that felt deliberate.

Neo noticed the pendant again now that he was closer. Silver, simple at first glance, though the metal had faint lines worked into it, old ones, the sort that only pretended to be decoration.

His attention shifted away before it stayed there too long.

Vivienne folded her hands loosely on the table and studied him with open interest. Not flirting. Not quite. More like she had brought home something strange from a trip and had not decided whether to keep it, dissect it, or feed it.

Neo leaned back slightly in the chair. "Alright. I’m here. You threw enough credits and inconvenience at me to make sure of it. Say what you want."

"Straight to business?" she asked, one brow lifting. "No comment about the view? No awkward thanks for the invitation? No fake attempt to impress me with manners you clearly don’t have?"

Neo glanced once toward the city beyond the glass and returned to her.

"The view is expensive. The invitation was aggressive. And if I wanted to impress you, I’d have stayed home."

That got a real smile out of her.

"There you are," she said softly. "I was starting to worry the tower had knocked the personality out of you."

"No such luck."

A server appeared only long enough to pour water and vanish again, as if the whole staff had been instructed to become ghosts the moment they entered the room. Neo watched the glass being filled, then the retreating figure, then Vivienne.

"You cleared the whole floor."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don’t enjoy strangers listening when I’m trying to have a conversation."

"You mean when you’re trying to interrogate someone."

Vivienne tilted her head. "Would you leave if I said yes?"

"I’d consider charging more."

A laugh escaped her at that, quiet and warm and entirely at odds with the rest of the setup. She lifted the water glass but didn’t drink.

"The money reached you first after all."

Neo didn’t bother pretending otherwise. "You offered."

"And you accepted very fast."

"I need credits."

There was no shame in the answer, and the lack of it seemed to interest her more than the answer itself.

"Most people in your position would try to hide that," she said, drawing one fingertip once around the rim of her glass. "Pride, dignity, all the usual pretty lies."

Neo’s mouth tightened. "Pride doesn’t pay rent."

Vivienne held his gaze a moment longer than before. "No. I suppose it doesn’t."

The first course arrived, set down between them with the kind of silence rich places seemed to train into their staff. Neo watched the plates touch the table, watched the server disappear, and returned his attention to Vivienne.

"So," she said, lifting the glass but not drinking yet, "why did you really come?"

Neo did not hesitate. "Money."

"I know that part. I paid for it." Her voice stayed light, though her attention did not. "I’m asking why you didn’t refuse on principle. Boys your age usually have fantasies about strong women from important families. Or hatred. Sometimes both."

Neo gave her a flat stare. "You say that like you’re not the same age as me. We’re both sixteen."

That earned the smallest shift at the corner of her mouth.

"Yes," she said. "But I’m older."

Neo lifted a brow.

Vivienne finally took a sip of water before setting the glass back down with measured care. "By months," she added, a little too pleased with herself. "Still older."

And she was.

Not by much. Enough to make the correction technically true, which somehow made it worse.

Neo leaned back slightly in the chair. "That’s a miserable argument."

Vivienne’s smile widened with quiet satisfaction, as if squeezing that reaction out of him had been worth the detour all by itself.