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“The answer to that ranges vastly,” Ace informs him. “Do you need help over there?”
“Nope. I’m fine.” Travis peers into his mug. There’s only a quarter of it filled with coffee so far. He starts to weigh the cost of his effort versus starting the day with only a fraction of the necessary caffeine. He remembers one last time, remembers that the operation still isn’t over, remembers that this house is teeming with survivors - most of which he sexually assaulted at some point. He decides to try to pour the coffee again. It all makes it into the mug this time. Puffed up with pride, he turns to find Jake and Ace watching him with fully judgmental gazes. “What?”
“Nothing,” they say in unison.
Travis would push, but he’s pretty sure they were judging his coffee pouring skills, and he’d rather not dwell on the issue.
Jake gestures to a platter on the counter that Travis hadn’t noticed, covered in stacks of pancakes, bacon, and sausage. There’s also a huge bowl of mixed fruit. “Help yourself.”
“Damn. This looks amazing.” Travis grabs a clean plate, eyeing all the food. “Who put this spread together?”
“Nolan.”
That stops Travis short. Guilt etches its way through his veins. It doesn’t help that for some reason a voice in his mind says 3, as if he’s still Nathan and the boy they’re referring to is still a slave known as nothing but a number. It turns his stomach. “Oh...”
“We made it extremely clear he didn’t need to do it,” Jake assures. “But I think he needed to. He looked like he might start crawling the walls.”
Ace sighs. “They all look like that.”
“What about Casey and Carter?” Travis asks.
“Casey is in the pool.” Jake smiles fondly. “I had to bring him a smoothie and water because he wouldn’t come eat. That boy is going to wrinkle up like a goddamn raisin if he doesn’t get out soon.”
“And Carter?” Travis prompts, trying to act casual. In case he fails, he turns his back to them and starts piling food on his plate.
Someone behind him clears their throat awkwardly. Then Jake says, “He’s quiet this morning. Made sure to check in with Casey and stole a few minutes in his shower and some clothes. He’s been outside since breakfast.”
“He ate, though?”
“Pretty sure.”
Travis turns around, frowning at his best friend. “Pretty sure?”
“I didn’t sit across from him and watch.”
“Did you see?” he asks Ace.
Ace looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “No?”
“He needs to eat.” Travis frowns down at his loaded plate. Why isn’t the boy eating? Did he eat earlier? Is that where he was before he came back into the room and woke Travis up for their second round of ‘one last time’? Or is he too upset to eat? Is he upset about Travis not telling him the truth right after Maison authorized it? Is he upset about 'one last time'? Is it Mica? Other loose ends? That little boy Elliot they still haven’t found? Casey? The other survivors? Maison? All of it? Something else? Is he even upset? Maybe he did eat? Maybe he’s stuffed full and enjoying the open air and Travis should just-
“What in the fuck is he doing?” Travis hears Ace ask.
Jake barks a laugh. “That’s his worried about Carter and freaking out expression.”
“It looks like he’s malfunctioning.”
“Yeah, that’s a thing he does when it comes to Carter.” Jake snaps his fingers in front of Travis’s face.
Travis frowns harder. “I can hear you, you know.”
“Does that make what we’re saying any less true?”
He stabs a piece of sausage with his fork and angrily bites it off. They don’t seem intimidated. He sighs. “He’s been through a lot. I’m allowed to worry about him.”
Jake and Ace exchange a look before Ace says carefully, “No one is saying you can’t worry about him. Just - worry about yourself now too, yeah? Head operatives like you in our line of work don’t have the best track record for success post-operation. We’ve lost a few over the years.”
“And I’d really like for you to not be one of them,” Jake adds.
