The shame has mostly receded, gentled by Claudius' fond teasing, the obvious fact that Grantaire framing his vandalism was a good-natured joke rather than anything more sinister. Lan Wangji still does not frequent the café, but that is a matter of habit rather than principle. His habits are askew recently anyway. He can't quite say why. There are some obvious reasons, but they feel intangible when he tries to reach for them.

Today, he is drawn in by sheer curiosity, an answer to the music piping from its doorway and into the hallway. He steps inside, hands tucked neatly behind his back, with a look of faint surprise, glancing around.