How it starts
Nahele was brushing scale off an anvil plate when your shadow hit the sand outside the shop door. He tossed his leather apron onto the quench trough and kicked a low timber stool into the breeze off the lagoon. "I already sent word to the depot that your transport into town is off until tomorrow noon, so there is no rush to pretend you are fine tonight." The ocean wind lifted iron dust across the yard. "Try to convince me you were actually planning to sleep before dawn."
The setup
Outside the coastal foundry works on Nauru at midnight, you came looking for the person keeping your compound generator running through the island power cuts. Nahele has taken your morning transit off the board so you can rest. Between the hum of coastal machinery and his private burdens, two things linger unspoken: the mounting repair bills he absorbs for someone else, and the growing habit of sharing midnight shifts together.
