"What's the price?"
"It's coffee. There's no price."
"There's always a price."
A pause. Then the sound of a mug being set on the counter. "It's on the counter if you want it."
Seth didn't move for ten minutes. Then his body betrayed him, the smell hit something primal, what remembered warmth and normalcy, and his legs swung off the couch before his brain could stop them.
The coffee was black. Hot. Slightly too strong, like whoever had set the proportions had grown up drinking coffee that could strip paint.
It was the best thing Seth had tasted in four months.
He sat at the kitchen island and held the mug with both hands and didn't look at Zain, who was leaning against the counter three feet away, drinking his own coffee in silence.
Should have been uncomfortable. Wasn't. It was the absence of demands, which was different from emptiness.
Seth hated that he noticed the difference
The big one, Jack, came downstairs at seven. He moved like a man who expected the world to get out of his way, and it probably did. He glanced at Seth, gave a nod that was more acknowledgment than greeting, and went straight for the coffee.
"Ghost still in the basement?" he asked Zain.
"When isn't he."
"He's been down there since we got back. Someone should make him eat."
"Someone should. Not me."
Jack snorted. He poured two mugs, doctored one with an absurd amount of sugar, and headed for the basement door. He paused at the top of the stairs and looked back at Seth.
"You like eggs?"
Seth blinked. "What?"
"Eggs. Scrambled, fried, whatever. Nate usually cooks but he's dealing with the other survivors this morning, so someone's got to do it and I'm up."
"I..." Seth didn't know what to do with the question. It was so normal it felt surreal. "Scrambled. I guess."
"Good man."
Jack disappeared downstairs. Seth stared at the space where he'd been.
"Is he always like that?" Seth asked.
"Like what?"
"Like... that. Casual."
Zain's mouth did what might have been a smile on a face with more practice. "Jack is Jack. He hits things for a living and cooks breakfast like someone's grandmother. Don't try to make sense of it."
Seth didn't smile. But the knot in his chest loosened a fraction
The morning went to mapping the building.
Not openly. He wasn't stupid. But when Zain showed him to a room upstairs (small, clean, a real bed with actual sheets, a window that looked out on an alley and a brick wall), Seth used the walk to catalog the layout. Second floor, six bedrooms, a bathroom, a room with the door closed that hummed with electronics. Ghost's territory, probably. Stairs at both ends of the hallway. First floor, common room, kitchen, a room that served as an armory (door ajar, he saw gun racks and felt his pulse spike), and what looked like a meeting room with a big table and maps pinned to the walls.
Basement: off-limits, apparently. Ghost's domain.
