The lingering scent of ozone and the phantom echo of Louis’s guarded silence clung to Cheryl long after she’d left his studio. The supernova sequence, their shared vision, had been a breathtaking, almost spiritual experience, a merging of minds that had felt like the first breath of a new universe. 

But then Joyce had arrived, a cold front sweeping through their nascent connection, leaving behind a chill that Louis’s subsequent apology hadn’t quite dispelled. The warmth had vanished, replaced by a familiar, unsettling distance in his eyes.

Cheryl found herself adrift, caught between the exhilarating, yet volatile, intensity of Louis’s genius and the unsettling undercurrents of his past. The project, once a pure artistic endeavor, now felt fraught with unspoken tensions and emotional complexities she hadn’t anticipated. 

She needed a grounding force, a steady hand to help her navigate the swirling cosmic dust of her collaboration.

Her thoughts turned, inevitably, to Dennis.

She found him in his office, a surprisingly neat space tucked away in a quieter wing of the observatory, a stark contrast to the sprawling, chaotic beauty of Louis’s studio. The walls were adorned with framed event posters and a meticulously organized whiteboard detailing upcoming schedules. 

Dennis looked up from his computer, his warm smile instantly easing some of the tension coiled in Cheryl’s shoulders. He wore a crisp, sky-blue shirt that day, a color that always seemed to radiate calm.

“Cheryl! Come in, come in,” he said, rising from his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Not another last-minute scent emergency, I hope?” 

His tone was light, but his eyes, ever perceptive, held a hint of concern.

Cheryl managed a weak smile. “No emergency, not exactly. Just… a need for a friendly face, I suppose.” 

She sank into the comfortable visitor’s chair he gestured towards, feeling the weight of her artistic, celestial-themed accessories pressing against her.

Dennis leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. “Everything alright with the supernova sequence? I heard you two were making incredible progress.”

Cheryl sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Artistically, yes. It’s… astounding, Dennis. Louis’s vision, his ability to translate the cosmos into light, it’s truly unparalleled. And when we work together, it feels like we’re speaking a language only we understand.” 

She paused, searching for the right words. “But it’s also… intense. He’s intense. And then there are… complications.”

She recounted, carefully, the abrupt interruption by Joyce. She described the way the air had thickened, the sudden shift in Louis’s demeanor, the almost palpable possessiveness Joyce exuded. 

She didn’t exaggerate, but she didn’t shy away from the emotional impact either. “It was like a switch flipped,” Cheryl explained, her voice low. “One moment, we were in this incredible flow, sharing ideas, almost finishing each other’s sentences. The next, he was… gone. Guarded. And Joyce made it very clear she saw me as an interloper.”

Dennis listened, his expression thoughtful, his gaze unwavering. He didn’t interrupt, allowing her to articulate the full scope of her unease. 

When she finished, he pushed off the desk and walked over to the small coffee machine in the corner. “Coffee? Or perhaps something less caffeinated?”

“Tea, if you have it,” Cheryl murmured, appreciating the small gesture of care.