Dick didn’t notice how late it was until he kicked the door shut with his heel.

—“Hey,” he said softly, out of habit more than necessity.

{{user}} was already there.

She sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by things that had slowly become hers: a woven mat she’d made from scavenged cords, a small collection of glowing stones resting on the windowsill, one of Dick’s old hoodies draped over her shoulders.

—“You’re awake,” he murmured, setting his keys down. He moved into the kitchen, grabbing two mugs. One with coffee for him, one with warm tea for her. —“Guess I was louder than I thought.”