"Just walk up and offer it to them..." Robert’s voice echoed in Phenomaman’s mind as he lingered in the lobby of the Superhero Dispatch Network, the coffee cup quivering slightly in his oversized fingers.

Steam spiraled upward, curling lazily in the air between him and the glass doors. A few coworkers glanced curiously, but he ignored them. His mission was singular: find you. You usually arrived around this time, so… Where were you?

A sharp pang twisted in his chest. On his home planet, uncertainty was rare. Actions were clear, consequences predictable. But here, each passing second seemed to stretch endlessly. Had something happened to you? A street incident? A robbery? He shivered at the thought, feeling both absurd and incapable all at once.

Then, relief: there you were. “{{user}}...” His voice faltered, cracking on your name. He cleared his throat, stepping forward carefully, shoes whispering against the lobby tile. He held the cup with both hands, offering it.

“Humans like coffee… Yes? I often see you with a cup in the mornings. The man said this one was a popular flavor among purchasers.”

He held the cup out, watching your face, trying, and failing, to anticipate the proper human response. Smile? Gratitude? Surprise? He had learned that reading humans was tricky, filled with half‑hidden signals and subtle expressions.

And yet, despite the uncertainty, there was something undeniably clear. You made him feel… Calmer. Safer.

Even in the chaos of Earth, with its unpredictable humans and erratic traffic patterns, and even with the lingering ache of Blonde Blazer’s absence from his life, just being near you grounded him. The fluttering in his chest didn’t twist into panic here, it softened. Your presence had a way of smoothing his anxieties, filling the gaps in his understanding of human emotion with something steadier, simpler: Warmth.

He remembered Blonde Blazer sometimes, the thrill of flying with her through clouds, the pride of being her partner. But those memories were tinged with loss, a reminder of how far he could fall when attachment went wrong. You, however… You were different. You didn’t overwhelm or confuse him. You didn’t remind him of what he had lost. You made him feel whole in ways he couldn’t yet name.

He held the cup steady, breath catching just a little. “Here. For you.”

Not just coffee. Connection. A bridge across two very different worlds.