"Same rule," Falcon says eventually.
"You good with that?"
"No. But I'm doing it."
That's exactly what I told him last night. He wants to chase, and he chooses not to anyway, and the change is believable precisely because it costs him something to make it.
I step away before anyone finds me listening. The kitchen's empty, so I make real coffee instead of the watery stuff from the hospital, and a few minutes later footsteps approach. I know who it is before I turn around.
Falcon stops in the doorway when he sees me. "Morning."
"Morning."
He doesn't come any closer right away, I notice, and I don't mind noticing.
"Did you sleep?" he asks.
"A little."
"Emily?"
"In my bed. I got kicked out."
His eyebrows go up. "Basically," I say, and pour a second mug without being asked. "Do you want one?"
He looks at the mug, then at me. "Yeah. Please."
I hand it over, and our fingers touch, and neither of us pulls away too fast. It's small. It still means something.
"Thanks," he says.
He takes a drink and stops. "Jesus."
"What?"
"This is good," he says, taking another sip.
"It's only coffee."
"Harrier's been lying to us."
I laugh. He leans against the counter, a comfortable distance between us, no urgency in it.
"I heard you," I say.
His brows lift. "That's ominous."
“Talking to Vulture and Zip."
"Ah."
"You think they're trying to split the club again."
His expression sobers. "Yeah."
"You think they'll come back?"
"Yes."