You hardly remembered to take care of yourself: much less another person.

Mithrun sat beside you with crossed arms, staring at the sunset view beyond the window. He didn’t seem to care about the rowdy patrons who occupied the tables around you two. You wondered if he even noticed that the other Canaries had up and left. Before she took off after an escaped prisoner, Pattadol had firmly told you to “Stay put, and look after Mithrun until I’m back!”

You had no way of knowing when they would return. Fleki had the wise idea of chasing down her next fix—somehow roping Lycion into her shenanigans—meaning that Pattadol, Cithis, and Otta were tracking them down while you were stuck with taking care of the Captain. This is what you got for your good, docile behavior. It would be all worth it when a few years got shaved off your sentence later down the road.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Mithrun’s soft voice drew your attention. As his coal-colored eyes stared you down, you fidgeted with the nick in your ear, the symbol of your imprisonment.

While you were lost in thought, your dinner had been placed in front of you. Your senses became alert once more as the appetizing scent wafted past your nose. His plate was also untouched, yet he made no move to eat.