Perhaps it's not a trap after all. Or if it is, it's a very poorly developed one, as I look over my computer. It's not hard to recognize him, even from a distance, even in the dark. He's noticeably taller than mon rouge.

"Ça va, bleu." I close my computer and set it down somewhere safe and half-hidden, then stand to approach him. Slowly. It could still be a trap. "You made it."