Sulking in his room bought Eli very little. He brought out the files from his bug-out bag, then put them back. Paced back and forth, flexing the fingers he had used to punch Beake. Eventually, he dug around for a change of clothing, hoping it would make him feel better. But a new t-shirt wasn't going to change where he was, or what had just happened.

Once his stomach started to grumble, he sighed and stepped out into the hall. He couldn’t stay in the room forever, and if he recalled correctly, someone had mentioned coffee earlier.

The main floor of the cabin was a surprising balance of airy and quaint. Floor-to-ceiling windows poured morning light into the open-floor kitchen and living room, where deep wooden accents and a stone fireplace soaked up the brightness. For a safehouse, the place certainly felt settled. Chunky knit blankets had been piled on the back of the armchair, plants clustered in the middle of the kitchen table. Books—actual books, with tea stains, bookmarks, and dog-eared pages—lay strewn across the couch. And coffee cups littered nearly every available surface.

As Eli looked around, someone pushed one such coffee cup across the counter towards him.

“Just brewed it,” Sherry said. Eli shuffled over and reached for the cup.

“Thanks—“

But before he could take it, she grabbed his hand and inspected his knuckles, still red from the punch. She tutted, tilted his hand, then pressed the cup into his palm. “Just bruising. You’ll be fine.”

“Sorry,” he said, swirling the coffee around to avoid her gaze. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” she grumbled, then jerked her head towards the kitchen cabinets. “Cereal’s in the pantry, if you want any.”

Behind her, Banneker was sitting on the counter, already reaching into a cabinet and grabbing a box.

“You like this, right?” He waved a bright yellow box. “Saw you drop a grocery bag on your way into your apartment last week. Thought you might like it.”

He held out the box. Eli took it and stared at it for a moment.

“That’s…the weirdest nice thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Banneker shrugged. “You’re welcome. Bowls and spoons are over there.”

As Eli puttered about the kitchen, navigating around embroidered tea towels and vintage cookie jars, Banneker swung his legs and fiddled with the headphones around his neck.

“Hey, you wanna play a game sometime today? Dawn said she’s in later.”

Eli evaluated Banneker for a moment. If the red-haired hacker was older than twenty-three, he’d eat his bug-out bag.

“I said after my coffee!” Dawn called out. Eli leaned to look around Banneker’s wiry shoulder. Dawn was out on the back porch, facing the trees.

“Same.” Eli nodded to Banneker, sipped his coffee, and stepped out onto the porch. “Hey.”

“Hey, punchy.” Dawn leaned against the railing, cradling her mug in both hands. Out here, the dappled sunlight took the edge off the cool lake breeze. Eli leaned against the railing next to her and followed her gaze outward. A rough path wound from below the porch into the trees, ending at a half-hidden dock. Beyond, the lake glittered in glimpses between the boughs.

“Not bad for a safehouse,” Dawn murmured, bringing her coffee to her lips. She looked like she had slept just as well as he had last night, with tired shadows marking the brown skin under her eyes—but there was a calmness to her features that Eli didn’t feel even close to achieving.

“You seem to be taking this okay,” he said quietly.

“I’ve been here a day longer than you,” she gave a cracked smile. “I’ve already gone through the seven stages of grief.”

Eli returned the gesture. “Does it count if they’re for yourself?”

“Counts double, I think.”

They stood there and watched the swaying forest for a few minutes, both their coffees slowly cooling.

“I don’t know, I…” Dawn started, then shook her head. “I never saw myself at the agency forever anyway. Not that this is how I saw myself getting out, but…I don’t know. It’s weirdly freeing.”

“Mm.” Eli hid his face behind his cup. Untethering was the word he would have chosen.

“Come on.” Dawn straightened and nudged his arm. “Let’s go play a game in the criminal cabin with Hawaiian-shirt kid.”

Eli pushed himself off the railing. “You’re making it sound like I’m in purgatory or something.”

Dawn gestured to the lake. “At least purgatory has a nice view.”